Today we came close to throwing in the towel, loading Big Red onto a train and high tailing it to Calcutta then on to Nepal.
We started the day well with a masala dosa and a chai from our regular restaurant. We chatted with the owner and were sad to be leaving the man whose name translates to "sunlight." What a guy! He even throws his rubbish in the bin rather than into the street.
We headed off and, after missing our turn off, decided to take State Highway One. When we turned onto it we noticed that it did not, in the slightest, resemble any kind of highway we had ever seen. It was narrow and falling to pieces leaving only tiny sections of tar between piles of gravel and pot holes. We figured it would improve and continued on. Every side road we saw was a tempting strip of perfectly formed tarmac. Not our SH1 though. It quickly turned into what looked like a 4WD track and we, like many before us, took to riding on the dirt beside the road where it was smoother.
Ahead of us, blocking us from our destination, was a very large hill. As we approached we assumed that, like yesterday, the road would be cemented for the windy uphill climb. We dodged a car just before the hill and managed to hit the right hand luggage rack on a very large rock. A very nice rattle resulted. We pulled over briefly, saw no major damage, and continued on. The road did not improve. In fact, if anything, it got, worse. Every corner was a mess of thick gravel with shards of rock just large enough to make Big Red slip and slide all over the place.
On our descent of the hill the noise was still there so we stopped again. This time we found a broken weld on the luggage rack. Happy that it wasn't anything major we continued down the slippery gravel hill and found ourselves excitedly pointing out greenery! It's funny how the little things excite us. First water, now greenery.
Eventually the road did flatten out and led us into the very strange town of Mhow. First we passed an army training ground, then an army college, then an army school. We soon became aware that this town was entirely dedicated to the military and very proud of it. The neatly manicured lawns and gardens stood out as grass of any kind is a rare sight over here. We figured that this is where India's money is. Men in camo rode bikes around town and armed checkpoints. Some roads were forbidden and the maze of streets made not accidentally going down them difficult. The Indian army has a very different army advertising campaign to that we have seen elsewhere. In Australia for instance, its all about life experience and gaining qualifications. Over here, its all about the explosions. Signs read "going into battle" and claim that joining the army will allow you to live out your video game in real life. Interesting.
When we finally found our way out of Mhow a big purple bus started causing problems. It came up beside us, beeping, driving erratically with people hanging off it and tried its very hardest to push us, like everybody else, off the road. We beeped right back. With the bus stopping often to let passengers off we had repeat encounters with it, each time making Chris more and more mad. Eventually it all came to a head when Chris took to banging the window of the driver as we went past. This would prove to be just the beginning of a string of frustrating drivers. Is it possible that the road users are becoming more stupid as we move North?
As we approached Indore the traffic increased substantially along with Chris' rage. Every time a driver pulled out on the phone without looking into oncoming traffic. Every time not one but fifty people ran a red light. Every time someone went the wrong way down the road or the wrong way around a round about or stopped in the middle of the road or slowed down to have a chat in the middle of the road.
Chris lashed out like I have never seen before. Kicking bikes, giving the finger, swearing at people and generally showing disdain for the entire population of India.
To make matters worse all the barriers between the lanes of traffic meant we couldn't turn anywhere that we wanted to turn so I, as navigator, got us lost which meant even more time spent battling the idiots of Indore. When we pulled up close to our lunch destination I had a broken Chris on my hands. We wanted out. But, knowing that we had empty bellies, were dirty and hot, we decided that we should lunch before boarding the train, plane or any other form of transport that would get us the hell out of India.
Once we sat down in the air conditioning of Shreemaya Celebrations, had a map in front of us, had washed our hands and had food on the way things began to slowly change. Realising tha Big Red needed to be sold before we could make any kind of quick get away, and knowing that we would best do that from Calcutta we figured we should check the map. Chris' trusty phone informed us that riding to Calcutta would take one day and one minute. But we did want to stop in Agra. And Varanassi. And we always took longer than what the phone said. So, when we realised it was going to take us ages to ride to Calcutta anyway, we figured we may as well do Rajasthan too. I mean, we're here and, in the state of mind we're in at the moment, there's a good chance we'll never come back.
We enjoyed a long awaited Western meal of pizza and chips before feeling refreshed enough to go back into battle. We caught a few glimpses of the Australia vs Inda test that was being held in Chennai on the TV and knowing we had been right across the road from the stadium when we bought Big Red all that time ago was quite cool. As Chris reattached out bags to the bike he noticed yet another crack in the luggage rack we had fitted in Chennai. Must have been really good quality.
We gave the Indian Coffee House we had planned to visit a miss figuring our sanity was more valuable and to keep that we needed to get out of Indore, fast. After some more poor directions from the navigator we finally got on the road which would lead us out of hell and on to Ratlam. The road though quickly began to resemble our old friend State Highway 1 from this morning. It was essentially another 40km of potholes. Except this time we had other road users to battle also. Trucks, school buses and your other mish mash of Indian road users made manoeuvring around the potholes near impossible. The fact that the road was essentially one giant pot hole made it even more difficult. Some of the holes were so deep they had been blocked off with rocks so people wouldn't go in and not be able to get out. Chris saw a van drop into one and really struggle to make it back out.
Every time we hit the asphalt we sighed with relief and every time we were hit by more pot holes after a kilometre or so. And these aren't just regular potholes. They're often a metre wide and there are so many of them that the remaining road is only a few inches wide in most places making manoeuvring around the holes impossible.
We stopped to grab some water and realised it was 4pm already and we still had 95km to go. If the road didn't improve there was a big possibility we wouldn't make it to our destination by sunset and we sure as heck did not want to be on these roads at night. Thankfully the road did eventually become normal and spread into a smooth, four-lane highway. Despite the occasional car coming down the wrong side of the barricade and despite herds of goats/sheep (we can't work out what these creatures were) being herded by their turbaned shepherds down the highway it was a pretty good run the rest of the way to Ratlam.
As we approach the town we found ourselves pointing out even more things that would normally be considered mundane. First water, then greenery now clouds! There was even enough cloud around for the sun to hide for a few minutes casting lovely rays of light across the sky.
As we rode into town we found a hotel among the mechanics with rooms for 600 rupees a night. We did venture into town to have a look at the hotel we'd found online but after seeing the hoards of locals milling about in the lobby we decided to give it a miss and went back to our first choice...Palash Hotel.
We checked in and Chris went to check on Big Red. He'd had a rough day and we were worried we may have cracked his frame. Chris returned with good news. No cracks, apart from those on the luggage rack that we already knew about, and he had even found a friendly mechanic to tighten the exhaust bolt. This was no easy feat either. The poor mechanic didn't have the right tool but was nice enough to borrow one from his mate and fix Big Red right up. Once showered we went to the hotel restaurant for a surprisingly delicious dinner. Veg biriyani, veg tikka masala, amazing spring rolls and Kashmiri naans. We even had enough leftovers to package up and bring upstairs for brekky tomorrow.
We started the day well with a masala dosa and a chai from our regular restaurant. We chatted with the owner and were sad to be leaving the man whose name translates to "sunlight." What a guy! He even throws his rubbish in the bin rather than into the street.
We headed off and, after missing our turn off, decided to take State Highway One. When we turned onto it we noticed that it did not, in the slightest, resemble any kind of highway we had ever seen. It was narrow and falling to pieces leaving only tiny sections of tar between piles of gravel and pot holes. We figured it would improve and continued on. Every side road we saw was a tempting strip of perfectly formed tarmac. Not our SH1 though. It quickly turned into what looked like a 4WD track and we, like many before us, took to riding on the dirt beside the road where it was smoother.
Ahead of us, blocking us from our destination, was a very large hill. As we approached we assumed that, like yesterday, the road would be cemented for the windy uphill climb. We dodged a car just before the hill and managed to hit the right hand luggage rack on a very large rock. A very nice rattle resulted. We pulled over briefly, saw no major damage, and continued on. The road did not improve. In fact, if anything, it got, worse. Every corner was a mess of thick gravel with shards of rock just large enough to make Big Red slip and slide all over the place.
On our descent of the hill the noise was still there so we stopped again. This time we found a broken weld on the luggage rack. Happy that it wasn't anything major we continued down the slippery gravel hill and found ourselves excitedly pointing out greenery! It's funny how the little things excite us. First water, now greenery.
Eventually the road did flatten out and led us into the very strange town of Mhow. First we passed an army training ground, then an army college, then an army school. We soon became aware that this town was entirely dedicated to the military and very proud of it. The neatly manicured lawns and gardens stood out as grass of any kind is a rare sight over here. We figured that this is where India's money is. Men in camo rode bikes around town and armed checkpoints. Some roads were forbidden and the maze of streets made not accidentally going down them difficult. The Indian army has a very different army advertising campaign to that we have seen elsewhere. In Australia for instance, its all about life experience and gaining qualifications. Over here, its all about the explosions. Signs read "going into battle" and claim that joining the army will allow you to live out your video game in real life. Interesting.
When we finally found our way out of Mhow a big purple bus started causing problems. It came up beside us, beeping, driving erratically with people hanging off it and tried its very hardest to push us, like everybody else, off the road. We beeped right back. With the bus stopping often to let passengers off we had repeat encounters with it, each time making Chris more and more mad. Eventually it all came to a head when Chris took to banging the window of the driver as we went past. This would prove to be just the beginning of a string of frustrating drivers. Is it possible that the road users are becoming more stupid as we move North?
As we approached Indore the traffic increased substantially along with Chris' rage. Every time a driver pulled out on the phone without looking into oncoming traffic. Every time not one but fifty people ran a red light. Every time someone went the wrong way down the road or the wrong way around a round about or stopped in the middle of the road or slowed down to have a chat in the middle of the road.
Chris lashed out like I have never seen before. Kicking bikes, giving the finger, swearing at people and generally showing disdain for the entire population of India.
To make matters worse all the barriers between the lanes of traffic meant we couldn't turn anywhere that we wanted to turn so I, as navigator, got us lost which meant even more time spent battling the idiots of Indore. When we pulled up close to our lunch destination I had a broken Chris on my hands. We wanted out. But, knowing that we had empty bellies, were dirty and hot, we decided that we should lunch before boarding the train, plane or any other form of transport that would get us the hell out of India.
Once we sat down in the air conditioning of Shreemaya Celebrations, had a map in front of us, had washed our hands and had food on the way things began to slowly change. Realising tha Big Red needed to be sold before we could make any kind of quick get away, and knowing that we would best do that from Calcutta we figured we should check the map. Chris' trusty phone informed us that riding to Calcutta would take one day and one minute. But we did want to stop in Agra. And Varanassi. And we always took longer than what the phone said. So, when we realised it was going to take us ages to ride to Calcutta anyway, we figured we may as well do Rajasthan too. I mean, we're here and, in the state of mind we're in at the moment, there's a good chance we'll never come back.
We enjoyed a long awaited Western meal of pizza and chips before feeling refreshed enough to go back into battle. We caught a few glimpses of the Australia vs Inda test that was being held in Chennai on the TV and knowing we had been right across the road from the stadium when we bought Big Red all that time ago was quite cool. As Chris reattached out bags to the bike he noticed yet another crack in the luggage rack we had fitted in Chennai. Must have been really good quality.
We gave the Indian Coffee House we had planned to visit a miss figuring our sanity was more valuable and to keep that we needed to get out of Indore, fast. After some more poor directions from the navigator we finally got on the road which would lead us out of hell and on to Ratlam. The road though quickly began to resemble our old friend State Highway 1 from this morning. It was essentially another 40km of potholes. Except this time we had other road users to battle also. Trucks, school buses and your other mish mash of Indian road users made manoeuvring around the potholes near impossible. The fact that the road was essentially one giant pot hole made it even more difficult. Some of the holes were so deep they had been blocked off with rocks so people wouldn't go in and not be able to get out. Chris saw a van drop into one and really struggle to make it back out.
Every time we hit the asphalt we sighed with relief and every time we were hit by more pot holes after a kilometre or so. And these aren't just regular potholes. They're often a metre wide and there are so many of them that the remaining road is only a few inches wide in most places making manoeuvring around the holes impossible.
We stopped to grab some water and realised it was 4pm already and we still had 95km to go. If the road didn't improve there was a big possibility we wouldn't make it to our destination by sunset and we sure as heck did not want to be on these roads at night. Thankfully the road did eventually become normal and spread into a smooth, four-lane highway. Despite the occasional car coming down the wrong side of the barricade and despite herds of goats/sheep (we can't work out what these creatures were) being herded by their turbaned shepherds down the highway it was a pretty good run the rest of the way to Ratlam.
As we approach the town we found ourselves pointing out even more things that would normally be considered mundane. First water, then greenery now clouds! There was even enough cloud around for the sun to hide for a few minutes casting lovely rays of light across the sky.
As we rode into town we found a hotel among the mechanics with rooms for 600 rupees a night. We did venture into town to have a look at the hotel we'd found online but after seeing the hoards of locals milling about in the lobby we decided to give it a miss and went back to our first choice...Palash Hotel.
We checked in and Chris went to check on Big Red. He'd had a rough day and we were worried we may have cracked his frame. Chris returned with good news. No cracks, apart from those on the luggage rack that we already knew about, and he had even found a friendly mechanic to tighten the exhaust bolt. This was no easy feat either. The poor mechanic didn't have the right tool but was nice enough to borrow one from his mate and fix Big Red right up. Once showered we went to the hotel restaurant for a surprisingly delicious dinner. Veg biriyani, veg tikka masala, amazing spring rolls and Kashmiri naans. We even had enough leftovers to package up and bring upstairs for brekky tomorrow.
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