Legless Goats

I am returned to India after a week in Khatmandhu. The return leg Delhi was far less arduous than the outward trip with 30 hours of non stop traveling featuring two bus rides and two train journeys bringing me back to Delhi in good time for a couple of beers in the Gem bar.

Managed a day in full day in Delhi then back on the overnight train with bike, spare parts and rucksack full of clothes in readiness for the next 10 weeks of riding in Uttaranchal and the Pindari Glacier tours. Had the misfortune to be in the same compartment as middle aged Indian women who took umbrage at the amount of space my luggage took up. Started shouting as soon a she boarded the train prodding me with her finger ‘police case, police case” as she dragged my bags from under the seat to position her things. Other passengers ignored her and I duly refused to acknowledge her and stared into the distance withdrawing into oneself as the Indians do if something happens that they can’t make any sense of. Realising my vanishing act and refusal to be provoked she soon calmed down and the train plodded serenely on into the night the 270km to the foothills of the Himalaya.

Completed a full week of re recciing and looking at some new trails all seems to be as good if not better than I remember except the weather which has produced hailstones, icy winds and lightening storms that make afternoon riding a bit risky and I am not even back up to the Glacier yet. Locals reckon the storms are uncommon and expect things to improve this week.

5 days now and no beer or alcohol of any kind. I am a living experiment. All expected so made up for it before reaching the village of Khausani famed for being Gandhi’s favourite Himalayan retreat. All that’s good for the Gandhi is not necessarily good for the Goose as they say as he appears to have left a legacy of abstinence behind him so will have to suffer through with the Himalayan views and amazing singletrack for a while instead.

Just finished another short ride through the forests and spotted a left front leg amputee goat which got me thinking jokingly if it had had its leg chopped off to be eaten. My theory seemed to backed up though as three other goats limped through the forest all with the same leg missing. I sat down for a bit hoping for a full flock of legless goats only to see a limping shepherd, himself with a mangled front leg. I questioned him on his policy regarding mutilating goats but he just pointed to the next village grinning madly as a smell worse than that of three legged goats he was escorting escaped from his jacket. I made my excuses and left. Not sure about mutton curry tonight. 3 legs bad 2 legs worse.