Ellora to Maheshwar

An example of a decorated truck

When we woke this morning I was feeling under the weather, to say the least. In spite of that though. we decided to do another big day of riding. It made sense at the time. When we got out of bed we discovered that the army was at on doorstep, sitting, chatting and generally not doing anything constructive. It turns out the prime minister's daughter was in town. That of course meant that she needed the army, the police and other plain clothed guys hanging around our accommodation. And they were armed to the hilt with everything from high powered guns to bamboo sticks. However, their lax attitude to patrolling the perimeter, like they informed us they should be doing, made me question ever wanting to put my safety in their hands.
As we rode out of our gated accommodation we got to see the full scale of the circus that had turned up to protect the prime minister's daughter and we were glad to be leaving.

Trucks in gridlock

Directing traffic

After about a hour on the road we came to a stop behind a massive line of trucks. Wondering what was going on we did what anyone on a motorcycle would do and rode to the front of the long queue. We discovered that the problem was simple: the road was too narrow for buses and trucks to pass each other. Considering their size we wondered if these vehicles should be on this road that plunges to a valley far beneath it or whether it perhaps would have been wiser for them to choose an alternate route. But, this is India. A dozen or so people had climbed out of their trucks to direct the traffic and, hopefully, prevent them tumbling off the cliff. The broken safety barrier told us that this was not always a successful venture. The makeshift traffic controllers did somehow create a gap big enough for Big Red to fit through, so we continued on our way for a short while before being stopped again by mor congested trucks. This theme of going around stopped trucks continued for the next half hour or so as lanes clogged with trucks trying too manoeuvre around tight corners. We felt like we belonged on one of those trucker shows...'world's most deadliest roads' or something.

Motorbikes can carry anything

We eventually got off the hill and onto quite a nice road with two lanes each way and a centre barrier. In spite of that there was still the occasional vehicle coming down the wrong side of the road. But we could keep up a good average speed.
Again, the road today was lined with far too many dead things, the worst of which included a dead cow that looked as though it had been skinned. Chris has a new tactic for helping me to avoid seeing these sights though. As we ride, we often point things out to one another. As we went Chris suddenly pointed to the left. I looked to find there was no unusual sights. Yes, there was a wooden cart being pulled by two bulls with painted horns, people cooking food in the street and other general mayhem but nothing out of the ordinary. When I questioned Chris as to what I was looking at he replied "nothing. There was a squashed dead dog on the other side of the road and I didn't want you to see it." What a romantic!

Too many

We also found ourselves pointing at unexpected sights today. Water! I grabbed Chris and excitedly pointed in the direction of a lake and gasped "water!" Chris' reply of "wow, that's pretty awesome" I think says a lot about just how dry it is here. Until now, the description Shantaram gave of people excitedly awaiting the first drops of the monsoon was difficult to believe. But, when you see people carrying water from a well in huge buckets on their head back to their home, and others using what little water they have just to settle the dust momentarily, it suddenly becomes a lot more real. I'd be excited for the monsoon too after barely seeing clouds for months on end.
We passed through numerous toll roads today, as we do most days, and made sure to make note this time of what they cost. Because we are on a motorbike we don't have to pay and, today only, we saved ourselves a few hundred rupees as a result. Thanks Big Red!
We rode into Maheshwar and I was not well. The long ride would have been tiring regardless but, with a sick tummy, it had not gone well. We settled on the first accommodation we looked at and it proved a great choice. Right near the fort, Hansa Heritage has mud rendered interior walls, cute painted detailing and coloured glass window panes all for the bargain price of 700 rupees a night. Finally! Clean accommodation is getting cheaper! We did however have to fill in a double-sided form each and then repeat the information into the reception guest book. Why they couldn't simply copy the information over was beyond us.
As we arrived in town, a new noise was added to the barrage that is India's sounds. A donkey braying. And finally Winnie the Pooh's character Eeyore's name makes sense!

Narmada River

With the evening quickly closing in we headed down to the Narmada River to watch pilgrims by the ghats. Shiva linga and their accompanying bull statues were absolutely everywhere. As were actual bulls for that matter.
Once back at our guest house we were informed that they like to put motorbikes inside at night so after they had done 'working' (i.e. sitting around, sleeping, talking loudly and watching TV) Chris needed to go down and ride Big Red up a rickety, little, narrow ramp and inside. I think they normally push bikes up this ramp because he got some strange looks when he started Big Red and rode up.
Because I wasn't feeling well, Chris was left to venture out again and be photographer all on his lonesome. He went back to the ghat at sunset to capture the happenings. On the way back he went in search of some food and quickly realised that this town has a serious lack of eateries. Other tourists were having the same problem. When he returned to share the bad news and I dragged myself out of bed to accompany him back to the one 'restaurant' he thankfully did manage to find. I ate a couple of bites of some sweet and sour spicy noodles while we chatted to a lovely French couple and Chris awaited his thali, which was being prepared elsewhere for some reason. The French couple were having similar issues with India to us. The noise! So it was nice to know we weren't alone. As Chris' thali arrived my stomach could no longer bear the smells of India. I have complete sympathy for how poor Mum must have felt with the smells of Morocco when she was sick. I retreated to our guesthouse and left Chris, again on his lonesome, to finish both of our dinners.

Narmada River