Epilogue

My journey is complete. My journey is over. I am now back in the UK. My bike remains in India, yet to be shipped back. I am slowly adjusting to a different existence..... So, for those of you keen on numbers.....


No punctures. No mechanical failures. No serious accidents. 
12 countries, 34 days, 7736 miles, 566 litres of petrol, overall average of 62mpg, 1359kg of CO2 emisions  :-(  sorry planet earth, that discovery went hand in hand with pollution.

I have been very fortunate, very, very fortunate. I am fortunate to have completed my adventure without uninvited drama. I am fortunate to have had the time and money to undertake the trip.... At times I have been painfully aware that to many onlookers, in the countries I have passed through, I must have appeared to have been an overgrown and spoilt western brat. Really.... riding through countries like Pakistan, where for many, a days wage is less than $1, the sight of a European on a fancy motorcycle, wasting petrol, and behaving in a variety of alien ways must have seemed and possibly was, repugnant. I am fortunate that I have a family that allowed me the freedom to indulge my selfish passion for adventure. I am fortunate to have met many good people along the way.

Revelations.... Iran. A lovely country with probably the kindest most hospitable people I have ever encountered. Bravo, the people of Iran. The road to India.... its almost entirely paved, sometimes poorly, but regardless it is, a more or less unbroken strip of tarmac.

Lessons learnt...... A personal lesson...Get a "Camelback". Take more photos. Don't rush along so much. Travelling alone is liberating. Be very selective about the information you gather and possibly rely upon, from forums and blogs.... many authors project more than reality in their writings.    

Recommendations..... Give it a go, its not as hard as you might imagine. The dangers exist but can be managed. Fear the Taliban, the terrorist, the separatist, but fear the erratic driving of the common man more so.  The BMW F800GS. It's a lovely bike. I can think of no bike, better suited to this type of journey. Mitas E07 tyres. Cheap (I like cheap) incredibly long lasting, and in the dry, grippy! After 8000 miles they have barely worn.

If you are thinking about or planning a similar adventure, I am happy to chat.

I am glad that I've written it all down, fairly much as and when it happened..... One day, I hope my son reads all about my adventure. I hope he is proud possibly inspired. I hope he grows to understand why I was away for "a very, very long time". I hope that one day we share such an adventure together. 

Peace, David...... For my 2013 bike ride check david2somewhere

19th October Sangameshwar, India to Morjim, Goa, India

An early start, chai and biscuits. I have lost count of the number of packets of biscuits I have eaten over the last month. Parle G biscuits hit the spot (no pun or mischief intended). During my journey I have consistently cared more for my bike than for myself. My diet has been heavily biased towards the instant, the processed and the packaged. My bike has in contrast been treated with somewhat more care. I have ridden it with mechanical sympathy (like your grandmother might ride a motorcycle). I have checked its oil on an almost daily basis and lavished an uncharacteristic amount of love on this machine.

The weather is cool (20C counts as cool in India) and misty. I ride the first few miles with my visor up....otherwise I am mist blinded.

The miles roll by and still the NH17 provides beautiful scenery. This road is however a little dilapidated. On the tightest switchback comers the surface has been totally carved up, vigilance is required!

You know when you have passed over the state boder into Goa because there are suddenly way too many bars and liquor shops. Goa applies very modest taxes to alcohol in comparison to its neighbour states. As a consequence Maharashtrians indulge in alco-tourism, nipping across the border to indulge in budget booze. As an additional consequence Goa has a drink problem. I have known a number of Goan men who have drunk themselves to death.

I fill up with fuel on the highway just outside Pernem. I know that when I arrive at the beach I don't want to use bottled petrol, sometimes cut with other fuels. I am amazed to discover that Goa suddenly has the cheapest petrol in India. A recent change of state government has meant a few price drops and relatively more price rises... Politics and manipulative Politicians.

Brimming with pukha petrol, I double back along the highway into Pernem, the capital town of the Taluka. My final miles are along a minor road that I know very, very well. The last moments of my journey are surreal. In the past I have travelled this road on a small scooter, Morjim to Pernem, to shop or to joy-ride, it always seemed like quite an outing. On my bike the journey takes few effortless minutes, I have of course slowly become accustomed to doing little but riding.

I arrive at my ultimate destination, the home of Dominic D'Souza. An old friend, who at one time was my housekeeper. I have told no one in India about my journey nor my arrival in India. Come to think of it I told relatively few people full stop about my journey. I pull off the road and through a grove of coconut palms into Dominic's garden. Dominic's mother races out of the house when she hears the alien noise of a large motorcycle. She has no idea who I am. She looks frightened. I swiftly pull my helmet off!

My first actions on arriving in Morjim.... to strip the panniers from my bike. I no longer need them, I can ride my bike naked of burden. And that is that. Time for rest and recuperation (do I now how to remain at rest? possibly not.........)

Misty Maharashtra Morning

Goa !!! Mandrem beach

Barramundi for dinner

Arambol beach

Morjim Mileometer 25493

 

18th October Valsad, India to Sangameshwar, India

I set out knowing that spicy food is no longer my friend! I head southward, with trepidation toward Bombay (Mumbai). Bombay is a peninsula made up of a number of marshy islands.... or it was. Now it is India's commercial hub and probably the most frenetic city on earth. My route didn't take me through the heart of the city but it felt as if it had. I encountered very high volumes of traffic on roads that were woefully inadequate. The connect road between the north of the peninsula and the south is a single carriageway and constructed in parts from block paving, quite astonishing. My satnav rescued me several times from wrong turns. I finally left the city behind and almost end up on the Pune Expressway. I doubled back to join the southbound NH 17. I stopped just short of entering the highway, in Panvel, looking for a place to grab a drink. I assummed that "Nightriders" was a bar..... maybe I was, with hindsight naive. Soft drinks weren't available.

A few kilometres after Panvel the NH17 becomes a rather lovely road. The October, post monsoon landscape was verdant and luxuriant. The road wound its way between the the Konkan Ghats (a coastal mountain range running southward from Mumbai) This road, although not in the very best condition (Ho ho ho) is exciting and spectacular.

As I rode onward I knew I was less than a days ride from journey's end and started to allow myself the indulgence of anticipating my arrival in Goa. For most of my adventure I have focused on the day in hand. In particular dealing with the simplest of things.... Keeping the bike fueled, ensuring I have a route planned out for the following day, finding a place to stay for the night, rounding up a meal. And in the moment staying safe! remembering that this is an adventure not a race.

I slowly rode my way southward aiming to reach Ratnigiri but settling upon Sangameshwar. I stayed alongside the highway in a simple guesthouse. Not the finest accommodation I had sampled over 30 odd days but sufficient. I grabbed some beer and a 1/4 bottle of whisky from a local bar.

Tomorrow Goa. Golden beaches, cosmopolitan fusion culture, Portuguese colonial architecture... maybe I have read too many guide books......

Sangameshwar mileometer 25341

17^th October  Udaipur, India to Valsad, India

I had a light breakfast organised by the grand daughter of the hotel owner. She had recently graduated from Indore University. Indore University it turns out are teaching degree courses under licence from De Montfort University, Leicester. When I had a real, proper, adult job, I was a lecturer at De Montfort University. Small world.

The winding roads continued toward Ahmedabad. Ahmedabad is the state capital of the Gujarat. It is connected with Vadodora by an Expressway..... As I approached the expressway I was aware there were no longer any motorcycles on the road. I saw the signs prohibiting motorcycles. I kept going. I felt that finding an alternative route would be a hassle. I reached the toll gates and was told that I was unable to proceed. The staff asked me to head back against the flow of traffic and exit the road. I told them this was crazy and dangerous. Finally they suggested I enter the road and immediately make a U turn, 50 metres down the road, through the central reservation to head back to Ahmedabad........ Hello!...... I entered the expressway and let the horses fly. I could see the signs telling me that the expressway was 90km long, I knew I might run out of fuel. I knew that someone would follow or attempt to intercept me. I rode at very high speed, intermittently, highway staff tried to intercept me, vehicles chased me. I could see the intercept teams in the distance as I approached, I hid as best I could in the shadow of speeding cars. The teams attempted to step out and stop me, but in vain, always too slow, too late. Finally after 80km there were 2 teams. They stepped out with sticks.... they got me! They spoke little English apart from the word penalty. They sent me on to the exit gates at Vadodora. At Vadodora I fully expected arrest. What developed was something different. I arrived and was surrounded by 10-15 staff. The boss was called. He turned out to be friendly and entirely dissinterested in punishing me. He asked for a present from England. I gave him a set of Euro coins, he appeared delighted, he gave me directions to the nearest fuel station and then told me how to get onto the national highway fro Mumbai. I re-fueled with the guage showing 5 miles fuel remaining.

The NH8 to mumbai is a boring and busy road. I plodded on. I had a side swipe nudge from a truck, again one of panniers absobed the impact. I remained seated and chased the truck down and screamed abuse at the driver. Another near miss. Indian roads are full of danger.

I finally pulled into a roadside hotel in the late afternoon. The rooms were 800 Rs and were very nice. The Gujarat is a dry state, alcohol is unavailable. I asked in the hotel restaurant about beer and was directed to a sign.....

Fair enough.

Valsad mileometer 25046

16th October Kotputli, India to Udaipur, India

I set out from Kotputli early. My journey will take me from Haryana state into Rajasthan. My initial goal is Jaipur, the state capital of Rajasthan. This seems like an inconvenience, I guess that it will be time consuming and stressfull to cross the “Pink City” .... It turns out to be OK! I pick up some cash from an ATM and find myself in the heart of the city outside the Hawa Mahal, Jaipur's most famous building... “Palace of the wind” …..... Jaipur is named the pink city because of its tradition of using a dusky pink paint to decorate its building. Jaipur is not India's answer to Brighton.

Hawa Mahal

Rajasthan is geographically varied. It is easy to think of it as a desert state. In fact parts are mountainous and green. I travel along interesting mountain roads, through a landscape dotted with small lakes. Building stone is one of Rajasthan's main industries. The roads see trucks carrying huge chunks of marble and granite. The mountainsides are in places heavily scarred from the removal of this stone.

Ajmer is marble central. Hundreds of marble wholesalers line the main road. The air is full of marble dust from huge sawmills that cut chunks to slabs.

Nearing Udaipur a car hits me from behind! I am not thrown off the bike... just nudged. The driver had been tail-gating me, a metre of two behind the bike for a while as we climbed up a tightly winding road. One of the panniers took the impact and I am left a little shaken. The driver looks at me with incomprehension gesturing at me to suggest that my impoverished riding is the cause of the accident. I imagine burying my fist in his face. India's drivers have appalling road manners. I know this is a massive generalisation. I am sorry to say that a very large majority are India's drivers are aggressive, impatient, unwilling to comply with the rules of the road and generally unsafe.... My view is borne out by statistics which show fatality rates many times higher per capita than those on European roads (WHO stats..... India,134,000 road deaths 2011  v  UK, 2200 road deaths 2010. Most worryingly when you look at the stats "annual road deaths per 100,000 vehicles" the figures are astonishingly India 314 v Uk 7.......)

I arrive in Udaipur at around 5.00pm. Udaipur is famous for its lake palace. I ask for directions to the lake and am met with blank looks. I chance upon a minor palace hotel.... Rangniwas Palace. 1200 Rs is cheap for an interesting and characterfull hotel. My room is furnished with some nice colonial antiques. One of the owners has a vintage Triumph which clearly hasn't been ridden for a very long time, but adds to the ambience. Bike geeks... name that bike?

Udaipur Mileometer 24720

15^th October  Amritsar, India to Kotputli, India

I got up at 5.00 am. Over the next few days I will riding alone again. My aim for the day was to ride past and beyond Dehli. I had heard that the roads heading toward Dehli were “under construction” and that the road beyond Dehli was wonderfull.

I set out in darkness, the air crisp and cool. The road I was following was the NH1 (national highway 1)  Fundamentally this road used to be a single carriageway construction. India is home to more than a billion people and single carriage way roads do not meet the nations needs. The Indian government have decided to convert it into a 4/6 lane highway…… project planning….. there is an absence of. What they have achieved is a series of stretches of decent road punctuated every few kilometres by a diversion. Today I road through 70-80 diversions. The diversions re-route traffic onto the former single carriageway, bypassing the tricky / ambitious constructions… like aerial roads, that are yet to be completed.

I eventually reached the outskirts of Dehli. My SatNav told me to head onto an SH (state highway)… Oh wise SaNav! Local knowledge had advised that Dehli mid afternoon is easy and that I would save time by getting onto the marvellous NH8 sooner rather than later. Let me tell you this:

Dehli is: A furnace, never quiet, never still, a maze, enormous, poorly signposted. My SatNav rescued the day saving me from an eternity trapped within this vast metropolis. At one point I found myself on a road where I covered 100 metres in 20 minutes…. Nuff sed.

I finally exited the city… and ploughed on. The marvellous NH8… is not a wonder of the civil engineering world. It is beset with the exact same project planning issues of its northern brother the NH1.

I settled for a roadside hotel. The Triputi Hotel *** deluxe. I made a good choice it is lovely. ... serves beer, has limited internet… and is metres away from rejoining the highway tomorrow morning.

Sites and sounds of the day… Beep beep beep. I am now desensitized and use my horn vigorously too. When in Rome! 

I spy elephant, camel and monkey on India's roads.

Kotputli mileometer 24392

13^th  October Okara, Pakistan to Amritsar, India

We get up very very early. I for one am enthusiastic about leaving the Madhina Hotel, leaving Okara, and leaving Pakistan.

Stephen, Richi, Martin and myself rush onward. Stephen and I are going to Wagah, Richi and Martin to Lahore. We say our goodbyes somewhere on the Lahore highway.

Stephen and I reach Lahore and find our way through the city with relative ease. When we are on the road to Wagah we are exhilarated. 

The border crossing is easy.... yes easy. We arrive at 10.00am and quickly progress through Pakistani formalities. There is a helper on hand who doubles as a money changing parasite. He even picks up and uses official stamps to mark up our documents, but apparently has no official status.  Wagah border is famous for its long corridor and flamboyant daily ceremonies. We ride down the corridor and say farewell to outsize Pakistani soldiers and move through gates into India. 

The Indian immigration centre is quite huge. On this day we are apparently the only travellers crossing. In the Indian officers are friendly and well spoken. I score 2 cups of tea. 

After 2 hours in total we are free to ride out into India. Bharat Machi.

Stephen's friend, Moksha Jetley is waiting for us. Moksha is an Enfield Motorcycle tour guide who Stephen has travelled with before. She offers us garlands of carnations. Journalists from Amritsar are on hand to chat to us about our journey and to capture the moment in digital splendour.

After 20 minutes we are in Amritsar. It is joyfull to have reached India. 

Amritsar is one of the major cities of the Punjab. It is the spiritual home to the Sikh religion and contains the Golden temple, the holiest of all Sikh Gudwaras. We check into the "Ritz" hotel. A nice place but possibly over named establishment.

I investigate getting a train to Goa. I buy an Indian sim card and visit the Golden Temple. The Golden Temple is a very beautifull place. It is serene and calming. An excellent way to migrate from Pakistan into India. If you ever find yourself in Amritsar, visit the Golden Temple, it is wonderfull in many ways.

Jeroen finally made it to Amritsar. He left Karachi on a badly wounded bike. He managed to reach Sukkur and then the rear suspension unit failed. He found a truck to transport himself and the bike to the Wagah border for $300. In Pakistan $300 is a lot of money. He then had to push the bike through the Pakistan / India border complex (several Kilometres). Rather him than me. All of this meant we deserved a beer.

We travelled back to the Ritz on a cycle rickshaw organised by Moksha. Neither Jeroen or I felt particularly comfortable about the thought of a man weighing about 50kg pulling along 2 guys with a combined weight of 190kg. Upon arrival I took the rickshaw pilot for spin. My first few metres were particularly demanding, the pilot then released the hand brake.....

Cycle rickshaw pilot ...over the limit

I have arrived in India !!!!!!!!!!!!! I have left Pakistan behind !!!!!!!!!!!!

Amritsar Mileometer 24022