Three stories this time, if you only have time to read one skip to the last!
STORY ONE:
Another HOLLY SHIT DAY in India:
March 30th began on a bit of a high note. Just coming off a rest day our bodies were rejuvenated and our legs were feeling strong. Plus we were figuring this might be a bit of a turning point in our trip. We have reached Kanyakamari, India's Southern most point and are now about to start heading north up the west coast where there are rumored to be at least a few nice beachie spots plus some mountain riding where it might be a bit cooler and tea plantations that we've heard are quite spectacular.
The first 5km out of Kanyakamari proved our predictions to be 110% correct, first of all we didn't have a headwind, we were riding up our first incline in 900km (finally getting to use more then one of our 27 speeds), there were amazing Karst mountains to our right and the first real veggie crop farming we'd seen to our immediate left with rice paddies and coconut plantations beyond. Behold beautiful India; plus the road wasn't so busy, the buss drivers not quite so aggressive and the 6am temp was sublime; had we died and gone to India heaven?
No we had not! Just as a throwing star to the genitals is sure to ruin the mood we hit the main road and everything changed. Back to the same old horrendous bull shit Indian drivers, only worse, the traffic as bumper to bumper, mostly busses and dump trucks, there was no shoulder what so ever and the road dropped off a good 10cm making rapid escape impossible. After watching Rachael narrowly miss slamming into the side of a 4x4, the driver had looked us both in the eyes and then pulled out straight in front of us, (i guess that's what eye connection means here). Then shortly after I was mm's away from being side swiped by a bus; for the very first time i might add, i actually shouted at the top of my lungs 'F-U' to the bus driver, not that he heard over the blaring hours, but that was how pissed I was!
This got me pondering; firstly that if there was a 777 along side the road with a free seat would i jump on? O hell yes i would, but being a rather unlikely sinerio i started to think...what are we actually doing here? Because this, right now, is not much fun! Are we here souly to risk our lives, like we are at the moment, because if that is it i can think of a shit ton of other similarly stupid ways we could be risking our lives just for the hell of it and having a lot more fun in the process. Like we could be at home with a rotten old wooden latter suspended off two dead tree limbs above some upside down cars where our friends are blaring horns and revving the engines; the result would be the same, mangeled by some tires and at least we wouldn't be breathing in the smell of hot urine.
Being undoubtly a dangerous state of mind to be in while riding on a busy Indian road we pulled off for a breather, a hot chai and a whole loaf of raisin cake.
Partially revived we peddle on, but it is rapidly apparent there isn't enough chai and cake in India to make this road enjoyable; we are hot, sweaty, covered in road grime, nearly deaf and scared for our safety. There must be another way but our map doesn't show any and when we ask the locals they say the main road is it. The GPS we'd brought along had been useful in the cities but other than that it never shows any more roads then the map. Checking can't hurt i figure so i pulled it out, zeroed in our Kovallum and hit 'go to'. The mapping route bar goes from 0 to 100% and there in front of us it shows that there are indeed some smaller roads we could try, it actually shows we could have skipped out on the last 30km of hell if i'd just checked sooner.
300m up the main road the GPS has us turn left onto what is the worst road we've been on in India. Scattered chunks of mud covered pavement existed in places with huge wash outs everywhere else. The going's slow but atop the hill, half a km on, we turn right onto a great back road that amazingly continus for 40km to our destination. We even happen upon some tailors who repair Rachael's pants free of charge; for which we by them all chai from the stall across the way.
I'd say the GPS has earned its right to come along on future bike trips. We must have made 50 turns all on unnamed unmarked intersecting roads, no map, amount of Google mapping, or quizzing locals could have got us through.
Arriving in Kovalum we scored a room overlooking a great beach for 7 bucks and now i'm thinking...no i wouldn't hop on that 777; in fact, if we sold our house, car and all our junk we could retire here!
HOLLY SHIT LIVE IS WEIRD!
Love US!
STORY TWO:
48 hours ago i praised the GPS as the best thing since wonder bread, the ultimate tool for riding the most obscure and otherwise unnavagable back roads. Now i'm not so sure...
Back on the bikes after a relaxing rest day of body surfing and making new friends we're following the GPS's lead when out of the blue the detail vanishes and we are simply depicted as a black arrow on a white screen. Lat:26.02 Long:86. Just as useless our map doesn't show the roads we've been on or even the town we're headed for. We'd only planned on riding 60k and we're already through the first 30km, all of which have been on fantastic side roads hugging the coast with minimal traffic and the least amount of horn blaring we've encountered to date. Certain the road will continue to Varkala we peddle on enjoying the rare peace and quiet (don't worry we are still in India there is plenty of trash, poop and the occasional waft of urine coming up from the nearby sesspools).
Even the other well traveled cyclists we've read about riding through this area had cycled on the main road, "I wonder why they didn't take this road? It is great!"
And then about as quick as you can say, "where the f did my road go?' we were upon an impass. A large water way separated us from the road we could see on the farside. 'Damn!' that would be precisely why the road was so quiet.' We couldn't even remember having seen the road fork since the GPS had blanked 15km back. 'Rats,' we said, 'this was supposed to be a ridiculously short day.'
About to start backtracking, when from around the bend we spot a local wooden vessel with two men aboard, and they are coming our way. Perfect.
"Ahoy Maity, might it be possible for you to row us across this here fiord?"
"Nope, no time," came the reply.
"We will pay you!"
"Nope, we are to busy I said, no time," it came again.
We couldn't really tell what the hurry was about it looked as though they were just carting sand about.
"50 rupies," I shouted!
"Nope!"
"100 rupies!"
"To busy!"
The estuary is only 100 feet wide at the mouth, it wouldn't take them more then three minutes. Why wouldn't they do it, we couldn't understand. Then the boat man motions for us to follow a sandy track to left.
"Is there a bridge down there?"
His head wobbles. Ahh? We look at each other, this head wobbling is one thing we really have yet to understand, does that mean 'yep there is a bridge', or 'nope there isn't a bridge' or 'it's so hot i would love a popsicle, do you have one?'
His head wobbles again and he motions for us to follow.
Unsure why we are lugging our bikes through deep soft sand we follow.
Around the corner: Nope no bridge, just the estuary dumping out into the sea, though HOLLY SHIT! There is an incredibly perfect wave peeling off both sides of the break wall. Too bad we didn't have surfboards, i bet no one else has ever surfed here.
He's now cruzing along the shore just below us.
We give him the, 'what kind of shit are you trying to pull here?'
Again, the head wobble and hand motions to follow.
Then the man who's been closely shadowing us yet hasn't said a word (there always seems to be one of these in India) speaks up, "take yourselves to they yonder sand spit, Captain James will ferry you and your belongings across the fiord to safety on they opposing bank." (of freaking course this is not what he really said as he didn't speak a word of english but we imagined that is what he was getting at).
So we plot on trudging through the sand. Come to think of it Captin James himself really wasn't speaking great English either, maybe when i shouted, 'I'll give you 100 rupies!' and we thought he shouted back, "no time" he actually responded, "for you, lunatic white man, who is willing to pay the equivalent of more than what 60% of the Indian population earns in a day for a three minute ferry ride, I've all the time in the world, get in."
At the beach, Captain James is more then happy to let me take a snap shot of himself, Mate Tomas and Rachael in his vessel. Safely landing on the other side, i pay Captain James the promised 100 rupies, we all exchange smiles and he and Thomas paddle off to fill their ship with another load of sand.
That was just awesome! Possibly the best 10 minutes of our trip so far! Tick Tick went my mind; had the GPS continued to work, or had we possessed a map worth its salt, we never would have traveled down this road. And with that we'd never have met Captin James, Mate Thomas, had the pleasure of sailing on their yhat or discovered a new surf spot.
F-it i thought, lets build a fire, chuck in the GPS and our maps and we're sure to have the adventure of a lifetime!
STORY THREE:
And then...after 20 days of all the HOLLY SHIT India could throw at us we've just had one of our best cycling days ever; not just here in India but ever! No poo, no rubish, no trucks, no buses, no horns, no gaucking, no urine, no beggars, no opressive heat; just incrediable roads and even more incrediable scenery. I'd write a story but the pics will do a better job! The only frusterating thing about the ride was knowing that it has been here all along and it took us this long to find it, at least i guess we finally did. I'd reccomend flying to India just to ride this one road!
Love,
No comments:
Post a Comment