Saturday, December 22, 2007

Apartheid

Been a long time getting back to the blog and must do better otherwise will loose my readership, Simon ? All been incredibly busy with the arrival of Sir John Bushby and the Canadian Gavin who both enjoyed a 10 day mountain biking trip. Highlights including Gavin managing to master the Malayalam word for blood "rectum"; of which his legs and arms seemed to provide an endless supply; much to the concern of the locals; and Sir John Bushby breaking down linguistical and national boundaries when coming to terms with an unrelenting verbal assault from a 70 year old, Shakespeare quoting, psychotic, ex Indian railway-ticket inspector with a "very pleased to meet you sir".
Moved to the beach for Christmas and the sands of Varkalla to join the rest of the fisherman pant wearing, banana pancake munching yoga obsessed Christmas crowd. Christmas day on the beach witnessed apartheid back in fashion with a big rope splitting the beach in half guarded by a few policemen stopping the Indian crowds from mixing with the Europeans. Enraged at this I carry the beach towel to the native side of the rope hoping to encourage the pulling down of these racist barriers that divide nations and minds. My high mindedness creates a stir as I am surrounded by the Indian crowds puzzled by my revolutionary actions, they happily point to the other side of the rope as a bit of sand more suited to the tourist. I stay my ground before heading for a swim ripping my shorts in the surf.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Bottom Brackets And The Forces of Evil.

I have moved back to the spiritual home of mountain biking in Kerala the XXX Hotel in K#$@!! a 130km and 4 hour drive away from Munnar unless the drive shaft falls off half way and needs 9 men to fasten it back together again.
Here things seem to be in the balance as well as my hotel appears to changed ownership in recent days. My friend and hotelier Mr %$#!* has been usurped by his business partner the evil Mr S%#@$ who apparently has a string of convictions going back years and across seas including a spell in Saudi Arabia's worst prison for making illicit alchohol.
Staff at the XXX Hotel are also suffering, with a a watchfull eye kept over all the workers. Things look intolerable with things coming to head at morning coffee time. The usual charade of black coffee arriving in the form of milk tea, sugar added indiscriminately where non was asked for, orders being forgotten or arriving unprompted has been replaced by a chilling efficiency. However, thankfully, this morning a pot of indeterminable tea/coffee arrived suggesting, perhaps, all is not lost.
Anyhow according to my sources Mr %$#!# the XXX Hotel has fallen into the forces of darkness and I am being requested to look for alternative lodgings. On a positive note prices have dropped and I might have to live with the evil and efficiency for a while.
On a biking note three bottom brackets have been discovered to be worn out at all the same time. Is there something to be read into this ??? Or am I neglecting my cycle maintenance ???

** Names and places have been altered to protect myself.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

Bed Tea For The Russians

The half demolished hotel has been busy recently. It started 2 nights ago when I was informed that a group of English tourists where coming to stay for two nights and as they were paying more than me I was to be shifted into the decaying dormitory from my purported "deluxe luxury room". The group arrived at almost midnight and I was awoken to greet the English mob from the bus on their arrival. I objected but the pleading worked and I pottered out into the cold evening air to witness a group of bikini topped and mini skirted blond lasses accompanied by hard looking goatee bearded man. The Russians had arrived. They requested food I told them there was non. They asked for Coffee the manager informed them "only bed tea available".
Two days of bed tea for the Russians then another group arrived. I was informed that all rooms were full and I could sleep in the office. The group arrived; 65 medical students from Nagpur along with an entourage of tour guides teachers and cooks all to be squeezed into half a hotel with only 9 double rooms and a dorm for 6 The teachers objected to the arrangements which meant they would share a room with the cooks; who in turn objected to then being foced to share with the tour guides. As such my room was seized by the militant teachers and I was to be shifted again this time to the staff quarters with the unlucky mans bed being the cleaner who had to kip in the corridor.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Mission Munnar


There is a perennial cloud hanging over Munnar at present even though the skies are azure blue there is a mood of uncertainty in the air as Mission Munnar threatens to restart in earnest.
Mission Munnar is the ruling communist parties attempt to clean up Munnar and stop the illegal building that has sprung up on the nearby tea and cardamom estates which are by law only to be used for that sole purpose. Attempts to bulldoze down the encroachments started over the summer and in a sinister twist buildings owned or linked to the previous Congress ruling party were targeted first as was my long term hotel stay which had the misfortune to be built a little to close to the National Highway and was on the way back from the bulldozers real target, so a bit of overtime saw that half of it was demolished and in Indian style the remaining bit still runs as a hotel.
Locals protested, court orders where invoked and mysteriously Inspector Singh (ex flying squad) popped back up to the Punjab claiming his mother was suffering from an ailment, now he is back in town with his map full of big back crosses and the bulldozers are expected to roll back into town soon.
On a more positive note had a super 4 hour ride this morning and dicovered yet another cracking downhill through a tea estate that I had previously been barred from, no sign of the watchman these days and the new ruse of saying " I am looking for elephants" usually apeases even the most jobsworth Indian Security men who will usually give you tips on where in the previously out of bound tea estate you should look for them.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Thirst past the post.

Late with this as I have been rushed off me flip flopped feet this last 6 weeks with the success of me mountain bike tours of Kerala.
Anyhow in internet cafe dying of thirst so will be brief and do not want to miss me mandatory pre sun set ale in the infamous and widely maligned Ice Bar here in the Keralan tea capital Munnar.
Too much to tell and probably not worth telling but for those who followed progress last here have run two groups of mountain bikers through the tea covered iddyllic Iddukki district and all have enjoyed it. Fears of unrideable descents on trails of pure green slime proved unfounded as the 6 months of almost continous rain subsided a few days after I returned.
Highlights. All from Singapore and Uncle Jim Metcalfe the worlds best town plannner and freely available at reaonable rates for all your town planning requirements.
Low life. Bars been closed on the 1st of every month to stop the government workers from spending all their cash on brandy in one night.

Think that covers 6 weeks quite nicely.

Monday, July 9, 2007

Last Post

All. I have returned from my mountain bike travels and travails and I am back in Rochdale for my 3 month summer holidays. A few posts have not made it on yet but will update them as I get time. Will be back up and running and improved in early October when I return to India to start up in readiness for my first mountain bike Kerala group of the year of the 2007/2008 season. To my readership of 1 Simon Lill, I thank you very much and will be on the phone to speak to you soon.

Monday, June 4, 2007

Bleached

Head out to the only cycle shop in India that knows what it is doing and miraculously manage to pick up a disc rotor, looks thick, weighs the same as the bike but it works and that along with a chunky thick tyre sets me back about 12 pound so thrilled to pieces.
Wander around Delhi in search of relics of the raj and the signs of the mutiny of 1857 that crippled Delhi and witnessed the deaths of 10's of thousands of Indians as the British wrecked vengeance on the citizens of Delhi for harbouring the mutineers. Probably too ambitious in my search as temperatures in the 40C and much has changed since 1857 but did find a church (locked), a crumbling Kashmiri gate and walked up to the Delhi ridge were the British layed siege to the city and found the British Memorial to the dead, now an exercise park, were I battle for space with the new breed of aggressively assertive Delhite's.
Pick up a shave and head shave near the old city for an original fee of 30 Rs (50 pence). All goes well til he accuses me of having unclean scalp which he decides unilaterally to clean up with the aid of some pasty stuff and a electronic vibrating disc, other modifications to my face and head are deemed necessary, and given the original cheap price it seemed best to let him loose with his assorted creams, pastes and tubes of face bleacher. Almost drew the line as he plucked away half my eyebrows with a devilishly painful plucking technique using cotton, his teeth and violent arm swinging. Bald, bleached; to the colour of an exhumed corpse; and eyebrowless I am then exposed to a bit of barbarous barber extortion as he demands 550 Rs for his administrations. I protest and throw 200 rupees in his face before pegging it into the thick swirl of people that is any street in Dehli.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Super Slow Summer Special

All normal trains were booked when I made my travel arrangements so I am excited about the prospect of travelling on my first ever Summer Special, extra trains put on to clear the summer holiday maker rush.
No visible signs of the train arriving on time so chat-chat with the locals about expected delays, here it is discovered that the S.S tag also stands for super slow as the trains have no real schedule at all and only use the tracks when the "real trains" have flown past. Arrive in Delhi 33 hours later for what should have been a 22 hour trip. At least I had an A.C carriage; as the temps were in the 40C; and a reasonable bunch of fellow travellers to pass the time with.
Head out for ales and re-meet the Estonian cycling 6 who are just about ready to launch off on the next leg of their trip which takes them through Kashmir into Pakistan and then on to Afghanistan should be good.

Panthers

Last few days in the Darjeeling hills prove fruitful and manage to unearth enough tracks and paths me thinks to put together a fantastic tour in November time.
Spent yesterday running and walking the 45 km to Kurseong from Darjeeling on a jeep track that follows the old British Military road, excellent stuff with the first 10 k through the thick forests of a National Park. Few signs up saying do not disturb the animals but sadly no signs requesting that the animals don't disturb the humans. Come under attack twice by unidentified animals crashing and hissing in the trees but not brave enough to confront me directly, throw in a bit of sprint training here and there to show the animals what they are up against and it appeared that the suspected panthers/ black bears/ domesticated dogs didn't fancy their chances which is lucky because I was half dead and had to walk the last 30 k of the day.
Return to Darjeeling to discover that the disc has not arrived but its all to late now and I am on the train back to Delhi ready for the last bit of what was to be mountain biking in the mountainous North West Indian state of Himachel Pradesh.

Friday, May 25, 2007

"Black Hearted Bongols"

Arrive in the gritty town of Kurseong without the sunshine that give it an allure yesterday it takes a while to orientate. Tea estates flank the outskirts of the town and an afternoons stroll reveals loads of singletrack for further exploration. Retire happily to bar which has the appearance of a 1970's front room complete with sofa,s and a T.V with two fluffy dogs perched on top of it. Ask for cold beer and served a warm beer with a bowl of ice separate try a few chunks and get a cold beer and a stomach tied in knots later that night.
Run about on the trails the following day and bump into ex military intelligence officer seems full of life for a man in his 80's and reckons that it is due to him being a hill area man but "those fat men from the plains they can not do anything." Feelings appear to run high here about the plains/hills divide. This divide I will attempt to explain in brief.
The people in Darjeeling and the mountain areas around it are predominantly ethnic Nepali and while being technically speaking Indian; living in the state of West Bengal; class themselves as Nepali. On the plains below, if locals are to be believed, lie "black hearted man" who will double cross and cheat you without mercy, a population of fat evil man who refuse to relinquish control over the Gorkha (Nepali) people and give them a degree of autonomy and there own state of Gorhkaland. In the 80's and 90's heavy clashes between the the Gorkha separatists and the West Bengal police took place which are well described in Anita Desai's Booker prize winning book "The Inheritance of Loss".
Obviously most of the tourists making their way up to Darjeeling and surrounds are Bengali and Bihari but predominantly from Calcutta and, agreed, they are all fat but these are the wealthy types and and a very poor representation of the plains people who are mostly thin and black hearted. Not true and unfair.


Monday, May 21, 2007

Mirik Revisited


Mirik; the weather has cleared so make instant use of the fine spell and head high to the Buddhist monastery for a vantage point. Looks like plenty of scope with tea gardens everywhere so polish up me running shoes and ready myself for a big day tomorrow of run trekking. Morning still clear so hoick up the main road to the highest point about 8 km to see if there are any paths down. Friendly bunch around here and take breaks twice during the day in peoples houses for free tea, biscuits and route advice. Meet one lively character in one of the houses who appears to have a speech impediment and a large hole in his chin. On his departure the house owner informs me that he was a high ranking police officer in Calcutta but had a big problem with the drink, such a problem that in an armed chase with local "goons" the drunk copper shot himself in the chin by mistake with the bullet departing through his nose.
Find more trails down to the river which again become unrideable but at least got a good view of the terrain to launch myself for two more days of route finding which at last finds a decent days riding on the soon to be famous Sukhia-Pokriabong-Rangbang river-Mirik route . Thrilled with the days work. Walking back on the stiff climb back up to Mirik the clouds lift to give me a view of another town and ridge about 40 .m away with a forested top and myriad tea estates, looks like the perfect place from here so will move on to the vision that is Kurseong tommorrow.


More ludicrous road safety signs. 5 and 6 in the series.

Hurry burry will ruin the curry.

If you are keen on survival then don,t believe in early arrival.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Urine

Decide to give it one more day here using the trekking map provided and head down the 800 metre descent to Relle a tin pot town on the river. Initially excellent stuff for M.T.B' ing, quite steep in parts but plenty of flatter sections and tight corners to make things interesting. Bottom section is pretty unrideable though which would mean a bit of a push so become little down beat. Pep up with biscuits and fizzy pop in Relle and steam back up the track at a frenetic pace only to caught up by a local man who has been on a 50 k.m round trip walk from Pemling to Kalimpong to attend to some business, a trip he says he makes once a month, humbled to see the smartly dressed man bounding up the steep track trying to get back before dark.
Decision made and decide to give Mirik another try and hope that the mist that made Mirik a nightmare has lifted. Arrive the following day after a 7 hour jeep ride. This is pretty much last chance stuff here if no suitable trails around then that is it for the North East. 5 weeks and to date still have only 4 good days riding.
Will finish on a reflection on Indian public toilets. It is common for most public toilets to be manned by a man of the lower castes whose job it is to clean the toilets and collect a small charge usually 1 rupee for a slash "urine" and 2 rupees for a crap "toilet". Yesterday entered a public toilet in Kalimpong and made my way past the attendant with the idea to pay him on my way out. Had a slash but had to wait a bit because of the queue, returned to the attendants desk were the man asked "toilet ?" ; "no" I replied "urine"; "urine" asked the man quizzically "only urine ?"; yes "urine" I responded. The man seemed unhappy with my urine claim and began a prolonged discussion with his mate and assumed toilet tough which resulted in his mate heading for the cubicles to check for signs of non paid toilet use, luckily the attendant managed to refrain him and settled for "urine 1 rupee please". Might just declare myself "toilet" in future .

The Great Samthar Plateau

4 days without a beer and it is showing. 5.30 a.m starts full of life, endless energy and enthusiasm for all things, vow to hit the syrupy Kingfishers as soon as I return from the wilderness no use feeling this good. Embark upon the 40 km return trip to the "Great Samthar Plateau" locals guide me out in the early morning light and onto the narrow trail that traverses the mountains with views of the snow capped Himalaya occasionally filtering through the ancient dense forest. Brilliant trail but again no use for mountain biking so break off the trail at Charcoal (ridiculous names continue) and head on to the main forest jeep trail which I run and walk until I reach the Samthar. No visible signs of any plateau at all with the flattest bit of land up here a tiny cricket pitch, locals bemused my my requests for directions to the plateau. An English speaking man is found who clears the confusion with an unambiguous "there is nothing to see here tourists will not come". Polish of my lunch and but refuse to drink atrocious heavily salted and peppered tea which is undrinkable but a apparently a speciality in these parts. Jog most of the 20 km back through thick forest and even thicker mist very atmospheric with jungely noises and see only one group of people on the 3 hours it takes it me to return.

Friday, May 18, 2007

Kaffer; a South African's paradise

Head to Lava but have to hire my own vehicle as the remotest of towns has only one bus connection per day. Outstanding scenery all the way there as the van crawls along the lanes through the thick forest. Find hotel with T.V for evening football and have a run out through the forests superb stuff but become increasingly knackered on the rocky jeep roads and reduced to walking pace. Trekking map which I am using as a base for trail finding flummoxes the locals who appear to have never have heard of some of the places I am heading to, rain rescues me from further futile exploration and I hatch a lift back to Lava to have a rethink.
Bengali's in hotel reckon the trekking routes are better in the remotest of remote towns of Kaffer so head there the following day and bump into the only other tourist this side of the Rimlingting pass a South African; not on some pilgrimage to places with names fashioned out of apartheid Sud Adrika you might think; but rather a young student bimbling about, thank god for that.

Kalimpong

No time to waste as I have only 4 weeks left to find some more decent trails up here in the North East of India ready for the hoped arrival of a big group of Singaporeans in November. Enroll big brother;" you only ring when you want something" in sending me out a new rotor. Pack up me running shoes and take jeep to Kalimpong the gateway to the remote villages of Lava and Kaffer and the fabled Grand Samthar Plateau where it is hoped there are some superb trails for mountain biking which I will have to run and walk first to test them out till the bike is fixed up.
Jeep journey enlivened bu ex Gurka who laments the reduction of the Gurkha battallions from seven to one at present. Reckons that the British always favoured Gurkha recruits from Darjeeling but for Darjeeling based ethnic Nepali's they had to prove they were Nepali citizens not Indian before they let them in. Reckons there was a lot of dubious paper work doing the rounds then. Explains that war is a terrible thing and prepare myself for some terrible tales of death and destruction. The man winks and says he got out before the Falklands and he only ever worked in a clerical post. Anyhow the man is well respected in Kalimpong and many salute and greet him as we walk through the streets. Seems very keen for me to me visit Bangkok on my travels and implores me to go as soon as possible "there for 100$ you can enjoy all day and night" reckons it is much better than Bhutan "nothing to see". Advice accepted.
Evening ales in rajesque Aroma bar faded charms and appear to be the only customer, polish of three ales as the Bihari owner brings out old photoes of his Grandad and Lady Mountbatten.

Thursday, May 17, 2007

American, Indian.

Take stock over a few morning teas and decide that can,t really explore too much new territory with only the one working brake. Decide to make my way to the road-head at Rimbick some 30 k away and head back to Darjeeling to organise another disc. Set out at frenetic pace as informed whilst slurping down my third cup of tea that the last jeep out of Rimbick is at mid- day. Half push and half peddle through the undulating thick forests and reach Rimbick with 10 minutes to spare. Friendly American trekking group offer me lift in their privately chartered jeep causing me to reflect on the general good nature of the average travelling American an opinion strengthened when they refuse to accept any payment for the ride. Shame about the res............
Nothing to do with the days events but have decided that holidaying Indians are mad. All Indian's on holiday follow the same pattern of behaviour which means waking up at before sunrise, here about 4.30 a.m. Children and adults alike will put the T.V on full blast, swing and bang doors to make sure they work, shake or rattle anything at hand before embarking on synchronised throat clearing and burping. The next few hours are spent munching crisps and fizzy drinks before a big breakfast. After that they retire back to bed just occasionally venturing out of their hotels to throw some empty crisp packets about or go in search of more food.

The Tumling-Ghorkey Push

Massive day on the bike to come which should take see me climb over 1500 meters descend over 2500 metres, push a bit, cycle a bit and generally knacker meself out. Start of badly by heading the wrong way in the mist and tumbling down the mountains towards Nepali Eelam before locals spring out onto the track and tell me I am in the wrong country.
Mist a feature all day but when it clears navigation becomes easier but it also reveals some nasty climbs to come that last time I completed in the comforting ignorance of a blanket of cloud. Legs in poor shape after the second big climb of the day and reach the highest point at 3700 metres exhausted and not in need of a lunch of stale tibetan bread and rancid Yaks butter. Continue swiftly on; turning down offers of more culinary delights; and embark on the 20 km traverse to Phalut. Excellent mountain biking but have to get off on the few mini climbs and push more then expected. Reach the deplorable freezing rotting shed that serves as a Trekking hut in Phalut pop down a cup of tea in the company of a few weary trekkers wisely unwilling to rest their heads here and arrange to meet them in the village of Ghorkey 15 km and 1500 metres down in the valley below.
Descent is corking , winding singletrack with ready made berms, jumps and few rocky sections world's happiest man for 3 km before my back brake makes an appalling cracking noise and I now have a rear disc rotor in two pieces. Continue on with only the front brake for 100 metres before a puncture reduces me to tears. Patch up and wait for the trekkers and walk down with them for 2 hours along an amazing track that would have been the best descent done in India so far.
Night in Ghorkey superb village in the forest miles away from electric, roads, schools etc in fact so isolated that the forest department and the the local government have decided to shift the population of a 100 or to the nearest town in the name of development.

Saturday, May 12, 2007

De-railed

Up at 5 a.m to make up for the lost time and take jeep out of Darjeeling to the town of Ghoom. The road follows the toy train track which weaves and wanders all over the road making driving difficult. Compounding the difficulties are thousands of Bengali tourists coming in Jeeps the other way form the morning pilgrimage to Tiger Hill to watch the sunrise over Kanjunchunga mountain. Jeep takes an eternity to reach Ghoom an eternity in which I remember I have left my gloves in the hotel so have to return back. Another hour to travel back the 8 k.m to Ghoom pick up the gloves and then jeep it back again to Ghoom to find a total traffic jam this time caused by hordes of Bengali tourists waiting for the toy train to do a circle of Batasla loop. Arrive in Ghoom at 9 a.m in livid state and begin to conclude that the toy train track should be struck off the U.N.E.S.C.O list and dug up.
Back to doss house, change and peddle at furious pace up the 1000 meter climb to Tumling before running out of legs and pushing up the super steep rock paved track. Tumling fantastic and stay again in Shikara lodge were I position myself in the wooden kitchen next to the hearth for another evening of watching cats, being fed and chatting to the guides and teachers of the student groups.

Purple Vision

Head back to Darjeeling to re do the Singallilla ridge ride and try to find a better descent down from the windswept 3700 metre Nepal, West Bengal, Sikkim border post of Phalut. Attempt new route to the starting town of Manibhanjang but thwarted by river crossings and locals refuse to accept that a cycle is a fit means of transport for what I propose to do. So head back to Darjeeling and road it the 25 km to the starting point. Storms stop me 5 km short and take shelter for two hours as the rains threaten to sweep everything away down to the plains. Pissed wet through, frozen and miserable on arrival in the starting town and decide to spend night there. Lodgings in pityfull state so decide to leave bike in the doss house and head back to Darjeeling to dry clothes and jeep it back to Darjeeling and have a night of luxury instead. Luxury accomadation dream shattered as most hotels full so spend night in hotel not dissimilar to the one where I left the bike. Manager points out T.V as sign of luxury though and relish an evening of watching England One Day International re runs from the 1980's in glorious purple vision with a big band down the middle of the screen.

Sunday, May 6, 2007

Legship and Bum

At last I am on the bike in Sikkim attempting a three day ride on little used trekking routes that will take me from Pelling-Ketchapperri Lake-Yuksom-Tasheeding-Legship.
Things start well and find the trail down from Pelling through the forests and down to the river some 1000 metres below. Trail is steep in parts but blows out to a wider jeep track covered in shail and makes for fantastic riding. Sadly trail ends and I have to negotiate my way through someones garden and then everything becomes increasingly unrideable down to the river. Hike up the other side for a km or so then decide I would rather ride on the Tarmac than carry for three hours.
Arrive in Katchaperry book myself into Trekkers lodge and head in search of food, walk around the holy lake and Trek to the monastery inconveniently placed like all monasteries on top of the steepest hill. A handful of other tourists make for decent company and shuvvle a few ales down as an ex M.T.B er from America shows of his reasons for packing the sport in. Fractured skull, missing teeth, two broken wrists.

Day 2

Up early and head down the next super steep descent a trifle gingerly until abandon and and start to push on the moss covered man made rock trail which becomes increasingly treacherous as it heads deeper into the thick forest.
Cross over bridge and traverse on cracking path for a few k.m before the uphill battle begins again and return to the tarmac for 9 km climb up to Yuksom. Yuksom is a cracking little place full of character. Head up to another monastery this time on the bike and push up for an 1 hour before having the bike seized by monks who make merry with the bike as is the custom here. Super run back down and regain confidence on steep stepped section and fell like a real M.T.B er.
Spend time in evening talking to bird watcher who takes exception at my labelling of him and corrects me that he is the business of bird research like I am a M.T.B researcher not a cyclist. Eh. Does seem to know what he is talking about and appears to be studying why Sikkim has more varieties of birds than anywhere else in India.
Meet another researcher in the evening from Himachel Pradesh; in North West India; who is on a recce for mountain biking in Sikkim, very unusual this. Anyhow seems more keen on jeep trails and broken roads and reckons searching out singletrack is a too time consuming and no one is interested. Interestingly reckons no one in North India does real mountain biking before inviting me to lead one of his groups out in October. Will wait and see on that.
Day 3
Amazing trails for k.m after k.m in the most scenic and remotest section so far but the trail is impossible to ride more than a few metres here and there as is it super steep then rocky and undulating. Brilliant for walking but useless for M.T.B Abandon to road after steamy sweaty 3 hours of perseverence hoping for a decent rideable section.
Road it back to Legship; my favourite named town in Sikkim after Bum; after another mountain climb up to the the famed gold topped monastery at Tasheeding. Too tired to enjoy it so trundle back down dispirited about M.T.B in Sikkim and hatch a plan to return to W.Bengal and abandon Sikkim till the competition on the 12th. Reckon it could takes months to find a few days decent riding here.

Saturday, May 5, 2007

The Problem With Pelling

Disastrous morning trying to find jeep stand which has been shifted due to the arrival of a V.I.P in Gantok so best to inconvenience everybody else rather than have a V.I.P stuck behind a jeep for a minute. Spend hours free wheeling down Gantok's super steep roads to a fictitious jeep stands that appear to have been magically moved seconds before I arrive. This is followed by me pushing the bike and carrying my heavy bag of tools, clothes and spare parts miles back up the tortuously steep roads back to other non existent jeep stands, eventually rescued by a man who had seen me traipsing up and down for hours and takes my bags on his motorbike as I follow on my bicycle to the jeep stand.
Arrive Pelling after 5 hour jeep ride initially pleasant looking place with astonishing views of the snow capped Eastern Himalaya. Meet up with Estonian cycle tour group making film of their travels from Khatmandu to Tehran, seem to be off track a bit here. Loads of ale and Chang; fermented millet drink slurped through a straw; make for decent night and sabotage the following days efforts to get on my bike.
Discover on sabotaged day that Pelling is as dull as the dead blue sheep that lie scattered over Sikkim's mountainous terrain so decide to get out the following day and embark on a three day cycling trek.
Problem with Pelling is that it is soulless and is one windy road full of high rise hotels all vying for a view of the admittedly fantastic Himalaya. There is no bazaar and no real shops and the only business transaction I conducted forced me into the hands of a shoe repairer in a super glamorous wooden hut with remarkable stunning Himalayan views in which he decided to repair my rotting Shimano S.P.D's at ludicrous rates. 70 Rupees. Furious.

Two nights in Gantok

Few cheap ales in Gangtok's pubs sets me up for a full days Mountain Bike research. Given the name of a man who is Sikkim's best M.T.B er who works at local school and takes some time off to meet me. Spend an hour pouring over maps to locate the best trails that Sikkim has to offer and decide on reflection that their aren't any and that the teacher is happier on roads than on singletrack. Excellent bloke all the same and reckons I would be best heading to the West and trying my arm on some of the established trekking routes.
A mountain bike competition is also planned for the 12th May which appears odd as there are not many mountain bikers in Sikkim. It appears that the event has been organised by the tourist board in attempts to attract an international field. The competition is uphill all the way two thirds on tarmac and the rest on a jeep road in a forest. Still it could have something to offer and might be able to meet up with some more riders so will head West to Pelling tomorrow.

Driving with Whiskey

Delirium put to bed so pulled myself together and boarded the jeep to Gantok, the capital of the mountain state of Sikkim and the most recent member of the Indian Union (1975). Lovely drive alongside fast flowing rivers through increasingly mountainous terrain. The journey is made even more entertaining by the ludicrous signs painted on to rocks on the side of the road, signs presumably dreamed up by the All Indian Road Safety Sign Design Department or A.I.R.S.S.D.D. Here a some of the better ones.

Left is Right.
On My Curve Test Your Nerve
Driving With Whiskey Very Very Risky

and my favourite.

Don,t Gossip Let the Man Drive.

More to come

Sunday, April 29, 2007

Human League

Time is up in Nepal and despite feeling pretty ill decide to risk it and get the overnight bus back to the Indian border. Stumach holds up well but feel weak as a kitten and semi delirious; which is my usual bus state; as we head back to the border. Things are delayed though as reports of ambushes by the "Terrai League"; splinter group of the more militant, "Human Terrai League" in the forests ahead reach the driver. Repeat loud playing of "I,m only human " seemed to keep the protesters at bay; this; as well as the being escorted in convoy by hundreds of heavily armed troops in military vehicles.
Midday Friday I am back in India and decide a day in bed should clear the delirium.

Rushdie Outraged


One of the best bits things about Pokhara has to be my initially surly looking French friend turned Corsican genius- Tangy. Spent a few afternoons at his Commencal ( French M.T.B manufacturer) sponsored bike hut. Had a handful of rides around Pokhara; some cracking trails and non of the traffic hopping that mars reaching the trails in Katmandu. Tangy is well on his way to having some of the best M.T.B er,s in Asia as he runs a school for kids from 7 up who seem more than happy on both wheels, back wheels or sometimes hopping around on front wheels pulling stunts on the street. Amazing stuff.
Nightimes in Pokhara are the biggest problem with a myriad of near empty bars and restaurants churning out the same stuff. Managed a few ales here and there but my big night out watching the football in the decent company of a student of Shakespeare was destroyed by an outrageous attack on my favourite (and only read author) Salman Rushdie with the preposterous expostulation that Rushdie had robbed all his ideas of Gunther Grass. Can anyone help me on this one ???

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Births, hailstones and mad cows.



All things pretty tame in Pokhara. Beautiful setting alongside a lake with cracking views of the Annapurna range of mountains take a day to settle in and embark upon my first ride out.

Head up to Sagarkot for a short blap out about 800 metre height gain on tarmac road to a small settlement perched high above the lake. Follow past village for a few Km to sight a track to descend back to lake to discover a heavily pregnant Nepali lady lied flat out on the side of the track shaded by an umbrella held by another women. The umbrella lady called out for me to get a taxi so I bombed back down the track to the village to try to avail one. Village shopkeeper said he would phone for taxi but seemed unwilling to ring for one unless I would promise to pay the fare which obviously I had to accept. Wait around for about 30 minutes in gathering clouds waiting for the taxi before news comes in the form of a motorbike rider that the lady has given birth on the side of the track. Unsure if the taxi is still required I sprint back up the 2 k climb to find the lady wandering back up the hill clutching the child with the umbrella women and a man for company. The man; on sighting me called out "Sorry Taxi cancel" as if he had decided to stay in the pub for an extra pint. Returned back down to the village, paid the bemused Taxi driver his fare before heading down the closest trail I could find that would lead be out of the gathering strom.
Hail stones the size of Yaks bolloxs ping of my widened eyeballs as I descend a super tricky trail full of greasy steps and rocks back down to the lake. Lightening and thunder ensue which cause havoc amongst the local buffalo and cow population causing a charge with one particular cow eying me up as the cause of the noise and deciding to trample me to death. Abandon bike mid trail and cower trembling behind a giant tree whilst the cow repeatedly rushes at the tree with its horns down, stamping and mooing in a terrifying manner. Thankfully rescued by a shepherd who shoos the beast away.



The Controversy Continues to Mar Mountain Bike Meet

For those following the appalling scenes at the previously mentioned Indian mountain bike National Championships this response has been posted up.

Dear

The story was biased, there were many irregularities and misconduct during the championships. Mr Dhaliwal was not present at that moment when the incident took place. Mr. Grewal openly indulged in unfair practices and manipulating the timings. Lately even the chief referee also left the championship midway due to grewal interference. The MTB circuit is not according to UCI rules and have 80% mottled road and there was no traffic control either. Till date the boys trained in Chandigarh whether taking part from other states are winning the MTB events. How Chandigarh manager can help his riders if they are taking part from Chandigarh.if Grewal is fair enough, why there is lot protests in all the recently held National Championships.

Escape From Khatmandu

Picked up the Indian visa and head Kathmandu's favourite watering hole Tom and Jerry's to make plans for my escape . Miserable fare and appear to be short of company. Polish off my third pint and decide to leave until company arrives in the shortest of forms with a Manchester based Nepali gay dwarf who works at Next and professes to be a big hit with the ladies; buys me a pint before a brief chit chat about Manchester before scuttling off into the night.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Tuborg and Orangeboom

Day four now in Nepal. Headed straight to Khatmandu from the Indian border a promised 12 hour bus ride took 19 in a bus full of violently unpredictable reclining seats which reclined or folded at random like human mouse traps crushing the arms, legs and heads of the uncomplaining pasengers who seemed quite used to it.
Khatmandu- Hole up in Khatmandu's Thamel area super touristy and unrecognisable from previous visits. My legendary sense of direction which serves me so well in India appears to have failed to penetrate the Katmnadu valley and spend the next four days wandering around the maze of streets in a state of confusement.
Regain my bearings in the evening time on a diet of Momos and slurping Nepal's favourite beers those long since forgotten master brewers Tuborg and Orangeboom which can be bought in any shop including the barbers. In other ways they are way ahead of the times here and spend a pleasant Nepali New Year celebration in French, Australian, Canadian and Israeli company bringing in the Nepali year of 2064!
Mountain biking in Khatmandu seems quite advanced as well relative to India with a few shops renting out decent imported bikes, there are M.T.B maps, a competition on the 29th April; which I will skip as its 100 US$; and a few foreigners winding their way through the streets on impressive looking bikes. Join up with two French lads one a M.T.B guide from Pokhara( 300k away) and another a French teacher. Have a few rides out with them, some superb and very technical trails in the hills surrounding Khatmandu and the lads prove to be fitter, faster and Frencher than me in that initially surly way they have.

Murk in Mirik

Recovery day in Darjeeling before bus to Mirik which promises some superb mountain biking with loads of trails pouring down the hillside to the plains of Bengal 2000 metres below. No visibility at all for two days makes Mirik a miserable murky place and impossible for trail finding so console myself with a 10k run around the lake and a 10k road climb.
Decide to abandon on the third day and head to Nepal early to pick up a new Indian Visa and have a look at the mountan biking there with the hope that the weather will clear when I return.

Pumped up.

Day 2 Saw more fog and more climbing as a mix of cycling, pushing and heavy breathing got me through to my night halt at Sandakpur 3700 metres up freezing cold and windy. Highlight of the day was the approach by Indian border security forces and questioning on whether I had bike pump or not, unsure as why this was relevant I handed over the pump much to their delight. Deflated volleyballs and football's were brought forward and the 1st pump to reach Sandakpur for years was put to good use. Leaving the army post a happy place full of ball bouncing soldiers.
Most of the afternoon and the night was spent in the kitchen of the hut I was staying at, huddled up next to the family over a metal container of hot coals slurping beers and eating rice mixed up with rancid Yak's milk and unidentifiable meat.
Day 3 Miss the days only sighting of Kanchenjunga whilst pumping up more balls for the local kids. Weather has cleared somewhat and the day promised a 20 km ridge ride before a 1800 metre descent down to the river at Shri Khola.
Some of the best riding I have ever done took me along singletrack and rocky trails on undulating terrain through an amazing landscape littered with dead trees . Wandering Yaks and the odd bemused Sherpa carrying bundles of stuff to who knows where provided the only company. Descent proves incredible, windey hard packed trail with a few wooden steps and ramps running over the small rivers. Takes about 90 minutes to get down the increasingly tricky track to the Shri Khola lodge.
Day 4 Bag of shite compared to previous days, many more trekkers on the trail which widens and widens until it becomes a dirt road. Routs taking me back to Darjeeling listed as trekking routes turn out to be roads so abandon after 60 km and jeep back up to Darjeeling for a another night in Joeys pub with the Charlie Chan look alike landlord.

Sunday, April 8, 2007

Controversy mars mountain bike meet

Have a look at this.


Controversy mars mountain bike meet Ravi Dhaliwal
Patiala, October 18The 5th Hercules MTB National Mountain Bike Championship was marred by controversy with the organisers filing a written complaint with the local police against one of the affiliated units of the Cycling Federation of India (CFI) .
In their complaint filed with the Anandpur Sahib police station, the organisers have alleged that the manager of the Chandigarh Cycling Association (CCA), an affiliate of the CFI, provoked some parents of competitors to hurl abuses at them and the federation secretary Mr J.S. Grewal when the events were being conducted in the morning.
The manager, Mr Rakesh Mohindru, could be seen openly provoking parents to indulge in hooliganism which proved to be an impediment in the smooth success of the events on the concluding day today.
Mr Rajeev Kakkar, father of a participant Rohan Kakkar who stood second in one lap point to point cross country time trial event (u-16), went to Mr Grewal and started to shower the choicest Punjabi expletives on him.
He was being egged on by Mr Mohindru whose intention, it seemed, was to stop the day’s proceedings.
An enraged Mr Grewal then asked the officials to submit a written complaint to the police. However, even as the police were dilly-dallying on whether to register a FIR on basis of the complaint, a compromise was reached.
This unsavoury incident left a bad taste in the mouths of the spectators, organisers and the parents. Mr Grewal later said that he would seek the disaffiliation of the CCA from the CFI at the next general house meeting of the federation.
If this was not enough yet another unsavoury incident occurred when a Chandigarh cyclist, who apparently fell while negotiating a sharp bend near the starting line, claimed that he was pulled down by a Punjab rider. Officials accompanying the Punjab contingent alleged that a Chandigarh rider Karan Claire had deliberately positioned himself on the course and was trying to trip Punjab cyclists.
The organisers got hold of him and he was promptly handed over to the local police on the directions of the secretary of the CFI.
However, the Chandigarh squad were quick to wash their hands off the incident by claiming that Karan Claire had already been disqualified by their manager, Mr Ravinder Singh.
Meanwhile, Jagdeep Singh of Punjab gave a good performance to be placed first in the time trial cross country event for boys (u-16). He was given a tough fight by Chandigarh’s Rohan Kakkar and the champ was separated from the challenger once after he drove with tremendous conviction in the home stretch.
Results: 1 lap time trial cross country (girls, u-16): Arshi (Haryana)-1, Mahita Mohan (Kerala)- 2, Radhika Bisht (Chandigarh)-3. (Boys): Jagdeep Singh (Punjab)-1, Rohan Kakkar (Chandigarh)-2, Rahul Anand (Chandigarh)-3. 4 lap mass start , girls, u-16: Mahantesh Kaparati (Karnataka)-1, Kamal Preet Sharma (Punjab)-2, Mahesh Mane (Maharashtra)-3.
Team championship: men: Chandigarh; women: Punjab.

Yaks, tracks and the worlds best descent.

4 days in the wilderness at 3700 metre plus amongst Yaks, monks, Nepali porters and fog as thick as a Tibetan blanket all on my mountain bike pioneering trails that surely many will follow.
Started from Darjeeling 40 k on road to the police border check post at Manibhanganj, the trail switches between Nepal and India so there are loads of military checks up here. 12 km steep climb up takes me from 2000 metres to 3000 metres on a broken cobbled path which makes cycling very tricky manage about 70% of it. Make it to the trekking hut in the tiny Nepali settlement of Tumling and retire to the kitchen and dining area. Place over run by frenzied young Bengali student on a 3 day trek dressed only in flip flop and track suits; expect some casualties soon; strangely the teachers are rigged out in high end trekking gear, poles, gloves and the works and seem very pleased with themselves as the kids run around the dining hall to avoid hypothermia.
I am requested to sit in the kitchen to keep warm and avoid the kids and manage to sit for about 5 hours on a stool where as I am fed uncomplainingly by members of the Nepali family who run the place. Only the antediluvian Grandma fails to get in on the feeding frenzy; she appears settled perched almost on top of the hearth next to a large fat cat occasionally yelling out what appear to be obscenities which every one ignores accept the cat which spikes up its ears at every outburst.

More Darjeeling Days

Few more days here yet before attempt the Sandakpur 4 day Trek on my mountain bike. Highlights include witnessing a a Bengali man rugby tackle a tiny Nepalese boy in the fruit and veg bazaar with the Bengali man coming off worse. Tough little things these Nepali's. Turned out the kid had nicked a packet of sweets from his stall. Thieving little swines these Nepali's.
Super shave in the afternoon followed by head massage which involved much head slapping and twiddling of the eye brows. Big Trek tomorrow so will stay out of the bars; do not trust myself not to be sat at the bar till the early hours full of ale watching the cricket world cup.

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

Darjeeling Days

Hiking the bike and bag full of bike spares up to the hotel 200 metres above on Darjeeling ridge was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Super steep road full of giggling kids on their way to school laughing away at the plight of the self tortured tourist; I could have rented out a porter.
Refuse to do anything else all day apart from embarking on a short walk and retiring to a bar in the evening with a few pleasantish other tourists. 6 pints and a karaoke interspersed by a scuffle over the mike between two Nepali's an Elvis singer and an angry young man who wanted to sing Cliff Richard.
Fix up the bike on the second day and have a short ride out super steep road descents followed by even steeper climbs back up. Abandon and decide to go for a trek tomorrow. Evening meals in ill ventilated tiny Tibetan place, become overwhelmed by the kerosene fumes produced from the cooking and almost collapse into my beef momos and vegetable thukpa.
Day three sees me out earlyish in misty conditions on the trek some super section of tracks that would be cracking on the bike but would have to carry about 50% so become dispirited. Stumble down the tracks into a cricket match being played out on a 5 yard wide track carved out of the mountainside. Locals produce 30 balls for each match made out of stones wrapped around with cloth and rubber bands. Reckon they have not got enough as ball after ball disappears down the mountain to be chased after by tiny kids whose job it is try to retrieve them. Return to Darjeeling 1/2 mile back up in the sky up super steep steps.

Trains

I am back. 52 hours and 3500 km on a train from the lush tropical palm fringed port of Cochin to the industrial West Bengal town of Siliguri; 500 km North of Calcutta; the gateway to the North East Indian Himalaya and the hill stations of Gantok and Darjeeling.A 2nd class sleeper ticket got me 2 full nights on the train in the company of a family of 4 from Manipur a tiny hill state on the Burmese border. The Manipurese had made the same mammoth journey in reverse only the day before to collect their children from school and return them home for the 3 month summer holiday. The kids had been placed in a private school in Kerala to take them away from the culture of insurgency that inculcates the minds of the youths in Manipur and the low level battle for independence from the Indian Union. Most of this was explained to me the jovial rotund father in an afternoon of discussion in which he laid out languorously on the bottom berth with his feet up and his head plumped on my knee looking up at my startled face for signs of intelligence.The journey on the whole was pleasant as the train rattled along at a sedate 60 kmh with hot humid air blowing through the barred windows, stopping every couple of hours giving time to pop out and patrol the platforms in search of food.Previous experience in India had taught me to be well planned for these epic journeys and I had armed myself with new soap to battle the filth and grime, a wallet full of small rupee notes to purchase food and a plastic bag full of books to keep me entertained. The books and soap lasted the trip but the wallet along with me rupees, train ticket and luggage booking receipt for the cycle booked into the separate luggage compartment failed to survive the journey a victim of the squat toilets.The wallet had been placed on the toilet window ledge to avoid it suffering a grim death and falling out of my pocket down on to the track below along with the contents of my stomach. In the battle to stay upright in the violently swaying carriage it was tragically overlooked and never seen again. On arrival in Siliguri 30 hours later this was to cause me a few problems and create my first encounter with those fine custodians of the law the Indian Police.At Siliguri a massive struggle ensued as 5 men attempted to extricate my cycle; the only consignment to be dropped off at Siliguri; out of the overstuffed luggage van. The men worked at a frenzied pace to liberate the cycle hurling boxes onto the track much to the annoyance of the trains guard who had to delay the train " Look very difficult ". The cycle was eventually handed down to me on the track whilst a few boxes were hastily stuffed back into the compartment before the train whistled and rolled off into the night.Getting the bike out of the station was problematic with no tickets I couldn't prove the bike was mine, men gathered round in a feverish state as I explained the loss of the wallet and ticket. Puzzled looks abounded until the luggage officer reckoned that a complaint with the police should be lodged which would then procure the sufficient amount of paperwork that all Indians require to make things run smoothly and hopefully enable for the release of my cycle.The gun slinger eyed Police Commander appeared unimpressed with my plight and the hastily written statement that I had put together accounting for the loss of the ticket. Another man was summoned from the back room a man who it seemed was well versed in extracting or changing statements to suit police needs. Alterations were demanded, no loss of rupees to be mentioned, times and dates changed to ensure that the "crime" occurred in a different police division, a photograph was demanded to be attached to the police's copy of the statement, a photo I hoped would not be added to the the rogues gallery hung up outside displaying a host of grim faced criminals who had transgressed the law on railway property. New statements were signed, more forms filled in and apologies made for wasting police time before I and the cycle were released from police and railway custody three hours later into the the scrummage that always greets the traveller at whatever time he arrives outside an Indian railway station. A jeep was hailed in the melee and I along with 5 pot bellied chain smoking Calcuttans; incongruously heading out on a 5 day trek from Darjeeling; squeezed our selves into the jeep with luggage and bike placed on top. The vehicle revved up completed a full lap of the station car park and returned back to the entrance before the driver disappeared for ten minutes returning with more pot bellied chain smoking Calcuttans who sat on top of us and satisfied the driver that the vehicle was full. To Darjeeling we went.