Thur Singapore to Madras

Boring day waiting around for the the flight from Singapore to Madras via Kuala Lumpur. Get to Madras sometime around 12pm. I always find it weird coming out the airport in any country as your senses get assaulted by the new sights and sounds but this is really weird. All the cars look 20 years old and there are loads of blokes looking like the ‘Your Country Needs You’ poster walking around in uniform and carrying a huge ‘beat stick’. The auto rickshaws are everywhere too, and beggars. Get into a circa 1950 coach for the ride across town. Madras is a huge city but it’s dead this time of night. The traffic is light but there seems nothing on the road that would pass any sort of MOT test. This place looks squalid. We arrive at our hotel which seems an oasis in the early morning, two of us in each room have to sleep on the floor but better that than be in the ‘thunderdome’ outside the gates.

Fri Madras.

We’re riding Royal Enfields across India and today we go to the factory to collect the bikes. We get a bus for the 30 minute journey and I really can’t describe the scenery outside as we travel. The place is absolutely heaving with people, animals, auto rickshaws, lorries, bikes and various other machinery. The city is a grade 1, 100% money back guaranteed dump of the first order. It’s just simply incredible. The whole place is a squalid, filthy, smelly mass of humanity where people are living, washing, eating, pissing and literally shitting in the streets amongst the throngs moving to and fro. The poverty is incredible with straw huts on the edge of the roads next to piles of stinking rotting rubbish being picked clean by goats, cows and dogs. The shops are holes in the walls and the entire city seems to have that ‘post apocalyptic’ feel with survival amongst the ruins the only thing on peoples minds. There are people just everywhere. I’ve just not ever seen anything remotely like this before. All the traffic seems to have at least 400,000 miles on the clock, no brakes, a smoke generator for an engine and a horn that would be more at home on a cross channel ferry. We get to the factory and it’s like a 1950’s propaganda video with people working away making bikes with no safety goggles or any sort of health and safety rules at all, anything goes. The blokes are testing the bikes on a rolling road within 2 yards of the production line. One slip and a line of people immediately get deleted, mad. We have a bit of a chat and stand in the heat. 41 degrees and 75% humidity, nice. We then choose our bikes and take them on the ‘test track’, a 30 yard oval with a loose surface and tree branches overhanging. These bikes are CRAP, awful, uncomfortable slow old dogs. They also have the controls back to front and upside down. Now children, on a ‘normal’ motorbike the gearchange is on the left. From neutral you press down for first then up for the other gears in sequence but on an Enfield the gearchange is on the right and you press up for first then down for the other gears. A ‘normal’ bike has the back brake on the right foot, but the Enfield has it on the left, is that clear? Now imagine getting into a car with the brake where the clutch is and the gearbox having the normal pattern reversed and you see that things might get a bit tricky. We go out into the city for a ‘play’ with the traffic. This is the ‘WWF, no holds bared’ sort of traffic like nowhere else in the world. The only rule of the road is ‘biggest has priority’. It’s completely insane. Traffic comes at you from every direction, looks at you then just pulls straight out in front of you even if your 2in from the front of it. Riding in that in the heat on weird bikes is a bit of a challenge to put it mildly. We get into a huge group and the chief of police escorts us across town to the hotel. Through every traffic signal and round streets the wrong way etc with all the riders going ‘first…… second SCREECH bugger , wrong foot, that’s the brake… right second……. SCREEEM 5 million revs….. bollocks, that’s first again… what a laugh that was. Still, we all arrived safely, compare horror stories and look forward to tomorrow with trepidation.

Sat Madras to Bangalore 350km

OK, into the nightmare we go. One of the riders gets punted off by a bus in the first 10 minutes and grazes his arm, good start. We follow a car out the city, round the cows that are EVERYWHERE. You’re driving along in the middle of a major city and there are COWS stood on the central reservations, and lying in the outside lane, and pulling out in front of buses, it’s completely mental. The actual traffic is chaotic but only moves at about 20mph. We eventually find our way out onto the ‘highway’, route 4 to Bangalore. Within the first 2 miles it seems apparent that the Indians have developed an extremely efficient way of building dual carriageways. What they do is have a single 2 lane road and let the traffic in either direction both use all the lanes simultaneously, excellent. The only downside seems to be the horrendous crashes, the 10mph average speed and the fact that nobody lives beyond 30. Driving in that is an experience that cannot be described, amazing. The Asian drivers are like pussy cats compared to this lot. They just plain don’t care. They overtake on blind bends, in buses, and lorries, they are completely bonkers. Life on a bike in this puts you on the bottom of the ladder and every other bugger just pushes you off the road, literally. Only 50% of the road is tarmaced, the other 50% is the grass and gravel to the side. If you don’t see 4 near accidents every hour you’re not looking hard enough. We see 2 trucks smashed together, 1 down a bank, a bus on its roof and a lorry in a tree, all in the first day. We drive to Bangalore and hit the chaos again. It’s dark, it’s late, we’re trying to stay together in traffic but the bikes are overheating and conking out. My bike expires and everyone else goes on, great. I’m broken down and lost in Bangalore in chaotic traffic, and did I mention that I’m actually IN the traffic, with a bike that cannot be pushed because the clutch has locked, and that I have buses inches from my back/front/side with horns blareing. ‘Beam me up Scottie’. I push (kick) it into top gear then push the bike over to the side, well, into a wall to be precise. I then proceed to ‘do a Basil’ and kick seven bells of shit out the bike whilst telling it all the swear words I know. I am apoplectic with rage and seriously think about setting fire to it. BAG OF CRAP. I spend the next hour and a half pushing the bike around the city asking people where the hotel is. It appears that in India, left is right and 1 mile is 2 miles, 2nd left is 3rd right and just round the corner is back where you’ve just been. I’m just about to completely spit the dummy when an auto rickshaw driver says to follow him to the hotel. I get the bike started but it’s still almost impossible to drive as I follow him to completely the wrong hotel. I think it was one of his mates. At this point I exploded with such a torrent of abuse that the front blew straight of my helmet and went into orbit. Fearing I was going to shove him up the exhaust pipe of my smouldering heap he then took me to the correct place, 2 hours after the others had arrived. What a god awful day. Still, could be worse, it could be raining.

Sunday Bangalore to Mangalore 350km

Looks like rain today, superb. Bangalore looks a lot better in the daylight, not at all like Madras. Out in the country roads though it’s business as usual. We see a big accident between 2 lorries. The drivers want us to take their pictures! It’s Sunday and we drive past some markets. There is so much colour here with flowers in abundance. Where ever we’ve been, it’s seemed that the men slum around in filthy old rags and the women are mostly spotless with bright clean clothes and very shiny, very long thick black hair that’s often in a huge plaited pony tail that any pony would be proud of. A lot of the women have flowers woven in their plaits too, which looks amazing against the shiny black. I think they’re doing it for an upcoming festival. How they get so clean in this mess is amazing. I’m sure that the Indian economy has a net import of rubbish. They must come with bin lorries and dump it in the streets at night or something because there is no way anyone could produce it naturally. We drive through a village where they are widening the road. The place is knee deep in mud and mess. Where they’re widening they are also demolishing the shops in the way. There is the bizarre scene of a 6ft mud ‘cliff’ in front of the shops where the foundations have been dug for the road and half the shop demolished, but people are still clambering up the bank to the shops, weird. We stop for something to eat in the mountains in a hut with a wood fire and 6in deep in grime. I think some sort of gut problem is inevitable so eat there anyway, all for about 20p. Now it starts raining and we’re a long way from the destination. It’s the end of the monsoon season and I think it’s left the best till last. As we approach Mangalore it comes down like never before and we’re soon driving through running water as the streets disappear beneath us. We pull over to ask for directions and we’re in a 6in deep stream instead of a road They had 104mm this afternoon, that’s serious. Still, you gotta laugh. I’m fast becoming Lord Fester of Leicester, the right honourable Sir Ming of Tring as all my clothes are damp/dirty/crack when I fold them. We need to get some washing done but it doesn’t look like we’ll get a chance before Istanbul.

Mon Mangalore to Punji (Goa) 360km

Leave Mangalore in the rain and quickly get into the state of Goa where the weather brightens up. The scenery starts to get really pretty with huge palms and big beaches along the Arabian sea. This is a big tourist area so it’s much more affluent with resorts and villas in abundance. Still millions and millions of people about though, they’re everywhere. There are over a billion people here and I reckon I’ve seen all of them. That has to be one of the overriding memories of India, the incredible populous and the heaving villages where it’s a wonder there is enough air for them all to breathe. Driving along I spot an elephant on the side of the road. It is having it’s feet inspected and cleaned, lovely. Arrive at the town to start the nightly hotel hunt. First bloke we speak to offers to show us the way on his bike for 200 Rupees and we follow him for 30 minutes to a small village outside town. We’re staying at nice hotels in India because anything else is not really an option. We’re in the Taj chain and they’re like an Oasis in every town we go to. Clean, modern, nice and probably comparatively cheap. They’re staffed by loads and loads of people falling over themselves to help you. This hotel is the best we’ll use on the trip though. Villa’s on the edge of the Arabian sea with the beach a minutes walk from the door. We’re late arriving (again) but there is time to jump in the sea then watch the sun go down. I wish my family was here.

Tue Goa to Puna 545km

Off we go into the chaos again and it’s pissing down once more. This monsoon rain is fantastic to watch, from inside… A load of us shoot off and blast into the distance. We’re flat out (at 55) and round a corner we come and ‘oh dear’, there are cows in the road. Here we go, the squadron of bikes fans out left and right, the cows get spooked and two babies make a brake for freedom. Oh blimey, why me, I love cows, honest, especially the babies, and I’m a member of the brown cow fan club, do you want to see my membership card?. You know when you’re on a collision course, and I know it now. Three feet and closing, I head for the edge. Two foot, one foot, I’ve nowhere else to go then “whack” and the head hits my leg and knocks me onto the dirt. I reckon I’ve been carrying the grim reaper as pillion on the bike since we came to India. It saves him the bother of keep getting up from his chair every time I have a close accident. Anyway, he must have been looking the other way this time cos I get back on the road and survive. Blimey, that was close. India is a country of extreme contrasts. We spend hours driving along straight boring roads through straight boring countryside then suddenly you’re climbing and BAM, there you are in some of the most incredible scenery we’ve seen on the trip. Up along the side of a huge valley with a majestic river at the bottom. Still we climb, on and on and on. The drops are outrageous, and there is nothing to stop you taking a really close look. There is a festival on and even up in the mountains there are thousands of people covered in purple dye singing and dancing and making a row. We decide to do some rock rolling. We walk to the edge and set some rocks off down the slope. Suddenly the trees come alive, like someone has shaken them. Things progress as normal with the ‘who can find the biggest rock’ competition. I get a massive rock like the ones Wylie Coyote does in Road Runner and set if off down the slope. Boing..boing….boing, it’s really gathering momentum now, boing… it’s in the air, boing…. it’s in the trees and suddenly the air is thick with gibbons taking cover from the meteorite storm attacking their home. They’re all leaping from tree to tree and screaming and shouting. Sorry. Even here we get a crowd of onlookers, you just can’t believe where people turn up from out here. On to the highway again and we come across our biggest accident yet. It’s just happened and there are bodies everywhere, some trapped under a lorry, some hanging out a car under the back of the lorry. It’s a nightmare. Some are obviously extinct. We get out of there ASAP, but this isn’t unusual.

Wed to Puna to Nasik 230km

Supposed to be a short day, but they never work out that way. We’re escorted out the city by an Enfield rider. We’ve been told we’re taking a short route but it’s absolutely titting down like never before and all you can see is the bloke in front. The road signs are in hindu so they’re impossible to read and we’ve been taken on another route via an Enfield dealer in another town. Lying little buggers. Finally reach Nasik and a massive hotel. It’s a real guilt trip leaving the poverty at the gate. This country doesn’t look like it’ll ever get itself sorted.

Thur Nasik to Indore 400km

Christ what a day. The driving in this country is indescribable. Today was 400km of roads the like of which I’ve never seen. I reckon driving on the moon would be easier. The potholes are huge and plentiful and cover 90% of the road. They are typically 3 to 4ft wide, at least 8in deep and are randomly distributed over the entire road. The lorry drivers do everything to avoid them. This usually means that they weave all over the road like drunks after a night on the razzle. They’re MENTAL. You spend 50% of the time jumping on the brakes to avoid the trucks on your side of the road, and the other 50% bouncing in and out the holes. By the end of the day most of the wheels are bent and buggered. You just can’t imagine what it’s like to drive out here, there are just no rules and absolutely anything goes. I’ve been physically forced off the road by trucks overtaking more times than I can remember and I’ve seen more accidents in the last few days than I’ve seen in all my driving before coming here. If the main road driving is bad, the suburban driving is worse. Wherever there are towns or villages things degrade quickly. The roads often turn into thin muddy tracks with boulders everywhere. Add loose animals everywhere and cyclists, and pedestrians, and rickshaws, and thousands of people milling around on foot in the road and you have problems. Everyone crawls through at 5kph on zig zag routes. Lorries overtake at 6kph, horns blazing, nobody taking any notice. There is often complete gridlock and you have to pick you way through, it’s like driving through a scrapyard where all the wrecks are alive. There really is no way to describe it though and it’ll remain in my head forever. All day I’ve been feeling that the grim reaper is getting twitchy on the back, and I had a dream last night that someone told me today would be a bad day. We’re on the outskirts of the town where the hotel is though so I reckon I’ve made it. We’re driving along a dual carriageway, doing about 35mph, everything is fine. A lorry goes past in the other direction then a pack of dogs suddenly appears from behind the lorry and runs over the central reservation. There are 4 dogs 10ft in front of me. “Oh look, I can fly” and I’m off for a date with the tarmac. Everything happens so quickly. I remember my head skimming along the road and then my mate suddenly coming up to see if I’m OK. The bike is down the road with oil spewing out and luckily the rest of the traffic has stopped. I get up and we move the bike and it still goes. Forks are bent though so I must have hit the dog hard. It’s limped off to die in a field. I don’t feel too bad, that will come later. Thank God for leather. If it had been one of the others driving in T-shirt and jeans they’d have been scraped to the bone. We get to the hotel and I wait for the bruises to show themselves. I’ve lost some skin but not much thanks to the leathers and I’ve not broken anything, things could be a lot lot worse. Still, it was bound to happen I suppose. Through the fog and dust an elephant appears and walks up to reception. Only in India. Still, that has to be the worst driving day in my life.

Fri Indore to Agra 600km

Feel like I’ve been beaten up. Feels like pulled muscles in my ankle, leg and shoulder plus huge bruises on my forearm, knee and thigh, excellent. Only 600km to go today, piece of cake. Hobble to the bike and get on the road. 20km out and there is a commotion going on. One of the other riders has hit a boy on a bike, bugger. He’s come off and banged his head hard and he can’t remember what happened. He and the boy go to hospital. The police are involved, things could get messy. He’s in a worse state than me, see I told you it could be worse. He has to go to court later in the day, what a nightmare. I won’t even try to describe today,  it’s impossible. One person hits a cow, one a donkey, one a rickshaw, the hotel looks like a hospital ward. We come into Agra at night and drive through chaos. Think Glastonbury festival, think midnight, main stage, packed arena. Liberally pour in pigs, cows, water buffalo, donkeys and goats then give everyone a pushbike/scooter/rickshaw/jeep/lorry. Turn off all the lights and just give main beam only to the jeeps, but even then, only on one headlight. Turn on the smoke machine then tell everyone to make their way to the opposite side of the arena ASAP where the first 100 will receive £2000. Now get on a motorbike and drive through the arena. I’m not into exaggeration but at the moment I’m just glad to be alive.

Saturday.

Day in Agra. I open the curtains and guess what I can see. It is only a couple of Kilometers away and the Hotel is called the Taj View. It is amazing. I can sit in my bed and see the Taj Mahal. Fantastic. Went to see it late in the day and it was tremendous. My bloody knee is killing me though so it is a bit painful to walk round it.

Sunday

Quick 200k to Delhi before catching the plane to Dubai at 4am then 9 hours wait and fly to Istanbul. Christ it is cold here

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