Thursday, 21 February 2008

Stones, strawberries and the old bill


We left Diu about 10 days ago and have been on a bit of a roller coaster, into the hinterland we did go. We've had rocks thrown at us, been busted by the police and slept in a house of ill repute. None of this however was as bad as it sounds, let me start at the beginning…

From Diu Marty, Sarah, Denis and I thought we'd save the bikes and out sanity and take the train 1000kms to Vadodara from Veraval (where Denis nearly set our hotel room alight with his petrol stove, but that's another story) Great to see India unfold from the window. It was late by the time we arrived in Vadodara and had a bit of a surprise when there were 2 bikes instead of 3 in the hold. Mild panic, and half an hour later Marty’s bike was discovered in another carriage smelling of fish juice. Nice. Due to a 5-day wedding festival (800 weddings in 1 day) all the hotels were booked out. We managed to find a room near the train station that didn’t bare looking too closely at and God forbid you look out on the window sill. Anyway, we upped and left early doors the next day and after some minor mechanics we left for the hills.

We hit the road and stopped later that day at a village to pick up some supplies for a relaxing and peaceful night under the stars, India it would seem had other ideas. We off-roaded for a while to find a tranquil spot, but with 10 minutes most of the surrounding village has clocked us and came to say hello. Not quite grasping our vision of getting back to nature 1 of the men decided we needed a bodyguard and pledged his allegiance to the campers for the night. At one point after I told him to go home, he wandered off and then a couple of minutes later threw a couple of small rocks in our direction, Denis went in search of the rockefeller and explained as politely as you can at 1 in the morning when you’re tires and someone’s been throwing stones at you that we meant no offence and he could come back to the camp fire as long as he desisted his game. Pride swallowed he came back and then continued to pull Sarah and Denis’ hair for the rest of the night. I’m not sure we’ll be trying that one again!!


Onwards, we left Denis and Sarah at Jalgoan and headed to the Ajanta caves for some good wholesome tourist fun. Very impressive stuff.


We’ve been riding over the Western Ghats for the last few days - the mountain range that separates central India from the Arabian Sea, there have been some fantastic views. On our way to Mahebaleshwar, a Maharashtran hillstation, also India’s strawberry capital : ) Marty’s tank ran out of petrol right opposite a police check point. Not Good! They tried to sting us for an undisclosed fine for an undetermined (possibly invented) offence. It wasn’t until a good 30 minutes of chat and after Marty had whipped out his chewing tobacco and offered it round to the cops that they let us go with a 5 pound backsheesh fine and a big smile. Once again proving that if you have enough patience, things become a lot easier.




I’m now sat in an exceptionally sweaty internet cafĂ© in Ratnigiri, 50 km south of Ganpatipule – a beautiful beach where we have spent the last couple of days. Tomorrow we will head on towards Malvan and then, motorbikes permitting the beaches of Goa await us.

Thursday, 7 February 2008

Diu mind?

Not at all actually. Finding the ex-Portuguese enclave of Diu in southern Gujarat has been like taking a holiday from the holiday. Note to anyone attempting independent road travel in India: It can be a massive ball ache 60% of the time. However on reflection we have travelled 2000 kms on our trusty steeds now and with the benefit of hindsight, and a few days on the beach, it is still a lot of fun.

Possibly the most punishing day riding reaching Diu with a 15 hours marathon of sleeping rough, breaking down (twice), bumping along pitted roads - which make the surface of the moon look smooth, and an hour or two of night riding - not for the faint hearted and not for me again thank you very much. Help though has come in all shapes and forms, mostly Indian in nature and always by the truckload. A simple fuse blown in one town sparked a gathering of biblical proportions as the towns folk rushed to see why a gangly red head was poking around his motorcycle with a screwdriver whilst his long legged female friend slunk around trying to look inconspicuous. As it happened at least four motor mechanics turned up and had us up and running again before a stampede occurred. And all for the bargain price of zero rupees and thunderous applause as the bikes roared off.

Sounds good on paper eh? It's this sort of thing though which harmless in intent is intense by nature as mine and holly's personal space protocol is compromised, leaving us slightly stunned, albeit eternally grateful.

So, what does a ex-Portuguese Island in the Arabian Sea have to do with this??? R& R. Cheap beer - well beer in general as Gujarat is a 'dry state - golden sandy, relatively uncrowded beaches, and a distinct lack of hustle. Seafood has also been on our menu several times with the odd barbie on the beach thrown in for good measure. Holly's is happy as her tan returns to its former glory. Mine sadly leaves a little to be desired.

Still, another couple of days of this and I think we'll be ready to ride again, back into real India...

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