23 April
U.K and U.S.A travels
Now it is April 23rd and I am in Chicago. The last three plus months in London were spent seeing huge amounts of art, applying and being accepted to art school seeing Cornwall, so reminiscent of Vashon's beauty and deepening my relationship with Vicki, who I miss terribly.I left London and the goddess I love (who I will be joining up with as soon as possible in S Korea), on April 3rd to come back to the States to finally clear out my storage unit, so I don't have to keep paying $160.00 a month and the burden of having so many possessions, and of course see friends. I will be arriving in Seattle/Vashon most likely by the first of May. Yep, a week from now. I have taken the opportunity to travel across this great big nation of my birth to see family and friends on my way to the place I last lived.
NYC for a week, great art especially the Whitney Biennial. DC for almost a week, to see the art and talk politics, then too short of a time with my nieces in Columbus, Ohio. Now the Windy City, next Minneapolis then either train across the northern route, through Glacier National Park or fly to Seattle, don't know yet. I have a wonderful place to house sit from May 23rd to June 13th (thank you Carol) but have yet to fully figure out where I will be the rest of the time. I have an offer to warm the couch of a friend but don't want to cramp their already full household so, if anyone on Vashon needs a house sitter to feed the pets, water the plants and such, or enough room not to cramp their style, let me know. Greatly appreciated! I look forward to seeing all my Vashon/Seattle friends so
give a holler back so we can get together.
Much Love, much peace, more stories to be told and adventures to experience,Toby
10 December
Mysore & Banglore Memoirs
Right now I sit at the laptop in Mysore. The hotel room is a good one for the 140 rupees I have paid for it. Most of the paint is still attached to the walls, the fan works and they have given me a towel without me asking. Of course, it must be taken into consideration that I have stayed here two times previously. I pulled up on my bike and the hotel manager looked at me unknowingly until I took off my helmet and then gave me a big smile and asked how I have been and how I like the new bike.Yes, new bike. I wrote to you all that in India they call a bicycle a cycle and they call a motorcycle a bike so I am referring now to the later. Yea, I bit the Bullet or the Bullet bit me, whichever. I was in Bangalore in mid September after taking a Vipassana meditation course. Ten days of noble silence with ten to eleven hours of sitting a day... But that is another story. Focus boy! I was staying in a dormitory type hotel and one of my roommates Joe was from Kerala and had a lot of time on his hands because he was waiting for a new job in the Gulf to start and his visa hadn't been sent yet. So, we got to talking about bikes and Joe says, "Let's go look at some". Okay, okay, why not? We jumped on a friend of Joe's bike and went looking. I had spoken with a man named Chetan in Mamallapuram in April because he rode up to a shop I was looking at stone carvings in on a beautiful Bullet.
I had seen many by then but didn't know much about them other then a little history and that they were considered India's answer to Harley Davidson. Chetan told me all about his bike, the Enfield clubs that existed and that he was a collector and knew many others that would help me out if I ever wanted one. He told me to get an English model the "Royal Enfield" and the considered the very best one to be the 1959 model. I flirted with the idea of getting one then but pushed it aside because of the operational costs not being within budget. They only get at best, very best 30 kilometers to the liter and that would mean that I could only travel 100k for 200 rupees ($5.00). Compared to about 12 rupees on the bus and even less, depending on class, on the train. I could fly from Bangalore to Chennai for less then the petrol costs alone. So, it was just a flirt at the time.
I didn't think Joe and I would run across anything but after looking at four or five shops with nothing but 70's, 80's and 90's models we came across a pile of parts in the corner of Super Garage. Syed the owner said he had a '74, an '83 and a few 90's models. I asked him if he had a '59 model and to my surprise he said yes and pointed to the pile of wreckage. He told me in very broken English, still much better then my Kannada (the language they speak in Karnataka) that it was a gift from him to his son.
Eventually he was going to rebuild it for him. His called his son, Syed, and asked him to come to the shop to talk about it. Syed Jr. was planning on leaving the country to go build a life for himself, at the ripe old age of 20, in the Gulf. He didn't want to depend on his father's help or the garage to make his fortune. He wanted to do it on his own. So, I bought it in its heapage state and asked how long it would take to restore it.
About a month. I rented a bike from them for the month to learn on. Yes, that's right, learn. I hadn't ridden since oh so many years ago and that was only one or twice at best on a friends Honda 125 which is considerably different from the 350cc bike I was buying and renting. Bangalore is a big sprawly town with traffic problems known throughout all India. Diving deep into the unknown and unexperienced again, why not? It wasn't easy but after stalling out at a number of intersections, patient these people are with bikes and riders that don't know what they are doing, I uneasily learned to ride better. It wasn't until the end of the rental month, getting in an unavoidable accident (which is another story) until I felt comfortable on the machine in the traffic in the towns and cities and on the semi-open highway. After much ado, the '59 was ready just in time for me to get back to Mamallapuram a few days before meeting with my parents on a two week trip to Bhutan.
20 October
Toby recaps Palani experience
Hello everyone,You may or may not be thinking, the last one I read oh so very long ago was number 6.... I actually doubled up on six so I'm skipping the lucky number seven altogether. The quick recap is that I left off at the end of my first night spent in Palani, Tamil Nadu.
Unlike the days that are filled with riding I wake late, six o'clock. Feeling the pains of yesterdays push to Palani, over 100k in the heat of S. India. I lay out the mat for some yoga. Stretch, ahhhh. Regroup my fragmented body and thoughts and feelings into a somewhat more whole state. I am starving so off to an uneventful breakfast followed by another visit to to Temple.
In the daylight the temple holds less mystery, and fewer pilgrims/devotees/venders. The place is none-the-less still impressive. The massive stone stairway that climbs to the top of the hill to the temple proper has been freshly swept by people giving offering to Murugan. A puja of sorts, but this time rather than lighting camphor, garlanding idols with flowers, lowering oneself to lay prostrate in front of their god, these stooped over people sweep using brooms that are about a meter long (including handle) to clean up the leavings from other devotees from the night before.
The piles are then scooped up and thrown over the side of the stairway to join up with the endless dump that comprise the temple grounds. The cows of course are there to help devour the flowers and green bits and some of the plastic which unfortunately gets caught in their intestines and eventually, I'm sure with great pain, ends their sacred lives. After the immense crowd of last evening it is a ghost town. The curtain is gone to expose an empty chamber. The god has been given rest from the voyeuristic masses.
The faith of many Hindus can be quite sincere but I wonder about spiritual materialism and materialistic spiritualism. The puja sellers and trinket venders do very well, very well indeed. The temples when popular are opulent and golden with the high priests driving, or rather being chauffeured in expensive SUV's while talking on their mobiles. The State also has a vested interest in the temples as well, they basically own them. The devotees believe that the more one gives the more one gets in return. In the West it is easy to see how the Catholic Church wields its power over its minions with the ease and grace of the new Pope, for the masses benefit of course. In India it is the same.
The temple leaders tell the people they are doing good by giving money to the temple and the gods will smile upon them if they do. I think many people in the West have seen through the thin veil of formalized religion for what it is, a self sustaining control mechanism of the masses by a few in charge. Unfortunately, many have traded it in for consumerism instead, filling their lives with the things they can buy.
16 October
Moving onto Palani
I know Palani is just 37k away and decide to go for it. So far I have been mostly on small roads and the road to Palani is a highway. There is more room on the side although it disappears from time to time and of course more traffic. The truck and cars are fine it is the buses that are problematic. When they hand out licenses to these guys (not sexist, I have yet to see a female driver) they must have to pass some kind of strength of leg test. The push the pedals to the floor, it doesn't matter whether it is the gas or the break, it is all out either way.The 37k fly by thanks to a slight downhill grade and I start looking for a place to sleep for the night. Typically around the bus and train stations, which are usually close together, there is lodging. this place is off of the guidebook grid so I just go up to the managers and ask how much and to see the rooms. One is booked, some festival at the temple. next door is not and I see why, yuck! The third won't let me take my bike inside so I don't even bother. I ride around towards the temple after asking where there are other places. I come across a few okay ones but they are also booked.
There is a sign out for another and I follow the directions and reach it. The name of the place is Hotel Subam. I ask how much and they tell me the range and I ask to see a room. The room is small with two single beds but clean and with a fan and small balcony. The non street side has air conditioning for about 250 rps more a night. I get into a little issue about my bicycle. I want to bring it into the room but the manager will not let me. He has a place in the covered parking area. I gnaw on him for a few but he didn't budge. The room outside is a caged in area for the backup generator. It will work fine, I can lock it up in there and no one will mess with it. It is not that I am worried about it being stolen, it is the curious nature of the Indian people that could harm it. They don't know about these machines and how touchy they can get with cables being stretched by playing with the shifters etc.
The night watchman and I have exchanged greetings and I notice he has a few empty Coke bottles by his chair so the next time I go out I get him one and he looks after the cycle watchful eyes. Shower and a nap later and I am ready for the big deal at the temple. The great thing about staying here is the temple entrance is only a block away. This is a Muruga or Murugan or many other names temple and one of the biggest to worship him in Tamil Nadu. He is the other son, overshadowed by his brother Ganesha, of Siva and Parvati.
There are many, many stone steps that lead up to the top of the hill. They even have a tram for those less inclined to climb. Shops line almost the whole way that sell kitch and puja. I buy a small pack of camphor to burn on the way up as an offering. I place them with the others already lit on the center of each first stair of each flight. As I look ahead to the next and the next and the next a beautiful pattern appears. I reach the top and there is the temple proper. The big do tonoght is the unveiling of the idol. There people are lined up for various darshans and for the possible glimpse of the idol which is placed behind a gigantic red velvet curtain. Every once in a while the priests float a ripple across it and the crowd awes.
I suddenly become aware that I am the only white person in a sea of brown. No one has said anything positive or negative to me. I have exchanged glances with quite a few and they have always smiled back. I don't feel out of place. I hang out watch the crowd, watching myself watching the crowd. I become tired from the long days travel and head back to the hotel. I will recover again tomorrow and stay one additional night. After traveling 127k today, mostly riding, I think I deserve it.
Much Love and Peace to all, Toby
15 October
Going to Udumalaippettai
Rasputin annoyingly sounds off at 5:15. Quick, cold shower, pull the finally dry clothes off the line and pack. I start to notice that I am still cold from the shower but it's really the room that is cold. Almost frosty cold. I am in bliss! I haven't been cold except in a shower since having a cold. The chills are a refreshing reminder of what cold feels like. One of the perks of running a fever in a warm/hot climate. Ready to cruise, I say goodbye to the owner and pedal down into town for a chai and something to eat. One shop open with a few bananas and some iddly with samba.After one more chai I ask again one more person the directions to the almost unpronounceable Udumalaippettai. He points in conformation of the majority. Up the hill, to the top of the pass then down, almost all down to Udu. The air is chill and I can't feel my fingers even though I'm wearing my riding gloves, fingerless though they are. I bear the feeling knowing that when I start to warm up from riding that my hands will also. I ride faster, pushing myself to get warm but it ain't happening. My cheeks and nose are cold and numb like my fingers. I hold the though that this will most likely be the last time I will feel cold for quite some time. They just don't hold snowman making contests in Tamil Nadu because they don't want to.
I laugh at myself which draws the eyes of the ladies clipping the tea. They smile and laugh as well. They are bundled up with hats, gloves, coats, and scarves. We all laugh together. This is absurd and I love it. The sun crests the land and sheds its warming light upon me.... I think, watch what you wish for. At the summit I stop and look down what I just rode up feeling satisfied. Now it is time for down, and down it is. I let a few trucks get ahead of me far enough that I won't have to breathe their fume as directly but I soon catch up to them and pass them. They wave. I wave. The road is in good condition for now so all I have to do is keep my eyes open for holes, break when I get going too fast to make the next switchback and enjoy. The trucks are way back and I'm all alone on the road. This is what going uphill does eventually, the payoff.
The k's click away and with little effort I am in Tamil Nadu. A brand new state. The state in which I will meet Vicki in, if she gets on the plane and leaves Australia. Closer, seemingly closer. I pass through a small town and grab some more food and water. I know that the terrain will flatten out and the distances between towns becomes greater so I ready myself as well as I can. I have passed through one of two Wildlife Sanctuaries seeing little in the way of wildlife. A few birds and possibly some sandalwood trees, not that I'm totally sure. The two meter tall chain-link topped with razor-wire would indicate what the owner of the Wastend clued me in about the sandalwood poachers having a harder time stealing now.
The next Sanctuary was suppose to have wild elephants and other creatures great and small. They even had lookout towers tourists could stay in to spot them in the distance. I had read an encounter that a bicycler had with a wild bull elephant in Africa and I was not keen about it happening to me. He escaped but not without being totally scared and making a quick deal with the devil/god. If you didn't know, elephants can easily overrun or run over a bicycle. I was no longer on the downhill glide and the road slowed with gentle rollers. Not far ahead I see something. I think, that looks really big but it can't be an elephant. Yes, I was obsessing a bit. I keep riding and it turns out to be a huge, really huge, wild boar. This was the biggest pig I ever saw, tusks and all. When it saw me, it turned and fled back into the brush. It's head came to the top my handlebars. I was glad it ran off because there wasn't anything I could have done if it wanted to attack. I
t is the Chinese year of the boar and I'm a boar. That was all I could think of other then HOLY SHIT, that was HUGE! I didn't stop on that section of road until I came to the next town about 15k away called Manuppatti. I stopped for chai and water. The men at the stand listened and looked as I told them in English and gesture about the huge boar. Yes they said, there are even larger ones out there... not to be messed with! It is only 11:30 and if I push I can make it to Udu by 1:00. The climate change from the mountains to the flats is considerable. Here in the flats it is hot and dry, almost desert like. As I ride along I come upon a few people walking the same direction as me. They are all dressed in yellow or orange. Pilgrims to the same Murugan temple in Palani I am going to. I then see the road end, literally it ends into sand. there are some tire tracks and footprints but no pavement, gravel, road surface of any kind other then sand. The highway department looks as if they were here a few years ago but.... I follow the tracks, on foot. the sand is too soft to ride in. It is difficult to keep the bike from sinking. I walk. The sand doesn't seem to end. there are no road signs. Am I in the right place? I walk until I come across a new surface, gravel.
Still too soft to ride so I walk. This has gone on for three k my odometer tells me. Now I see the workers. They are almost all women who are shoveling the gravel out onto the sand. A male driver compacts the gravel with his roller all the while yelling instructions to the women. The next group of women add smaller gravel and dirt on top of the compacted large gravel and that too is driven over. At this point I can ride again and do so. The pavers are not next but in another k the regular road surface returns. I reach Udu about 1:30. I am hot and need water and while riding through the pretty large town I see a cycle shop and pull over.
There is a mechanic working on some rusted up old cycle and I think, what the hell, if he can fix that piece of junk my should be easy. I show him the damage to the rim and he nods. He shows me a small anvil and hammer and I nod. Off with the packs, flip the bike, and with a smile on my face quick release the wheel. AH HA! The mechanic is amazed. I pat him on the back and show him how simple it really is. He loves it. I remove the tire and tube and it is his turn to work some magic. I know the flat spot will remain and some of the wobble won't be trued out but the bump/crimp has got to go. He place the rim on top of the anvil and tests the resistance of the metal. It is aluminum and softer then the steel rims they use here. He bang on it a few more times and it begins to move into the correct alignment. A few light taps and he is done. I throw the wheel back on the bike and true it as well as I can. All this takes about 10 minutes and costs 10 rupees, 20 cents. I give the mechanic an extra 20 rupees knowing that it is enough for a lunch out. Pumped up and reloaded I grab water next door and I am on my way. I test the break and the grabbing is gone.
14 October
Exploring Munnar
Alright Toby, step off the soapbox. I make it to Munnar around 10:30 and find a clogged center of town. I call up the J&J and ask if they have a couple of rooms. They only have one so I let it go to Alex. I look at the Rough Guide and head towards the west end of town where many stays are located. I ask a few and they want too much until I land at the door step of the Westend Cottages.The owner shows me a few different rooms, I pick the middle one and start unpacking. With it being so early I decide to get a little laundry done so it will be dry for tomorrow's ride. The town is a bit of a pit but I find a working internet place and log on to check email etc. I also look for a bicycle shop for the back rim work but in a hilly town single gear cycles aren't around.
The break pads are showing some signs of wear and the pulsing downhill is somewhat unnerving. I ask around about the road to Kodaikkanal. It is marked on the map but that does not mean it is there. One man tells me no way, it would be hard enough to just walk it much less ride it. Another man says I may be able to do it but it is full of wild animals and chances are I would have to spend the night out with them because of the distances involved.
I need to know definitively before traveling that direction because I really do not want to back track. I go to the tourist bureau and both people say no way. The road is only used during pilgrimages and it is harsh to walk. Even taking into account that I have a gear bicycle they don't think it would be possible. Okay, okay... Change of plan. I will head north out of Munnar to Udumalaippettai and then southeast to Palani. Most likely a two day trip and through the heart of an area Swami says is full of thieves and robbers but without turning around and going back through Poopara to Teni to Kodaikkanal there is no other way to Palani.
I enjoy the rest of the day resting and walking away from town into the hills. In the evening I go to the Siva temple and walk around the building three times listening to the chanting of the gentleman inside. When I go to leave he calls to me to join him inside. I do. He is a devout man who opens and closes the temple each day. His reverence is not formal but open and welcoming. I listen as I sit. He finishes. No one has entered. No one has left. Just us two. I am calm and content and appreciative of this man's gift to me. I thank him and we hold hands for a few minutes and the sun has set leaving just enough light to negotiate the steps leading back into town. I call Alex again at the J&J to see if he wants to have dinner but he is out.
13 October
Riding through tree plantations
I wind up and down long stretches of road though plantation after plantation. Perhaps they are all the same owner, TATA, with different names. I notice that the women are the clippers and the men are the sprayers. Of what they spray, without masks or any safety gear, I do not know but with the agro shops in the area touting fertilizers fungicides and pest control I can guess. One of the few things that also dot the landscape are luxury resorts. Some are very tastefully built into the hillsides semi-Frank Lloyd Wright style while others scar the artificial beauty of the immaculately kept crops. They show little signs of life as the package tourist season is pretty much over. I stop a a very nice and clean especially for a local hotel for a late breakfast.
I see a hotel worker eating puttu with egg masala and coffee and order the same. I was introduced to puttu at VKV and loved it had seen little of it since leaving there. This was a treat! The worker was a manager at the resort on the other side of the road and spoke English very well. I asked him about the plantations and he was very candid with me about what goes on with them. The workers are exposed to many harsh chemicals and poisons in the process of keeping the tea in good shape. It is not only the men but also the women because they're amongst it too.
The exposure continues through the whole process, even after the tea goes into neat little packages to be sold in your local store. I don't know the allowable toxic level regulations in India, or import into the USA but I doubt either is looking out for the consumer real well. My advise to all you tea drinkers, whether green, black, Indian, Sri Lankan, or Chinese, drink it organic! All you would need to do is catch a whiff of the spray while riding by on a bicycle to make the right choice.
11 August
Meeting Alex on way to Poopara
After I am done and the packs are all back on Alex and I head off towards Munnar. We talk and ride for awhile. Neither of us can go very fast with the road surface being so bad so we are content to just relax into the vibrations and endure it. He tells me he wants to try to make Munnar today and I don't think it is possible with all the altitude gains and losses. At 15k/hr we would get there pretty late and I'm not up for that. The road at the CRC does in fact smooth out very nicely. It is a ribbon good enough for any country to be proud of but India must be ecstatic. Time to push forward to see if Munnar may be possible on this new surface. I say goodbye to Alex and maybe see him in Munnar.Even though the mountains are cooler they are still hot. I go through water much faster then I thought I could and have to check in with the supply at every opportunity to buy it. It doesn't cost much, 20rps for two liters which fills both bottles and then leftovers go to an extra bottle in the pack. Sometimes it can be purchased cold but mostly not in villages and small towns. Some days I will go through six liters in just my riding time.
I grab a late lunch in some little hotel in some village. The food is good, as usual, and I am recharged for more riding. Like the other day, I pedal up to Alex as he has passed me while I had lunch. He doesn't eat lunch, only breakfast and dinner. It is about 4:00 and our chances of reaching Munnar are nil so we agree to continue to ride together until we find a place for the night.
Poopara, not the most lovely of towns has such a place. We pay extortionary rates for each room for the night, They know they have us by the balls because it is 6:00 and the next possible town is too far to reach by dark. I hate it and complain to the worker but in the end pay it. To make things worse, they want a deposit for a room that hasn't been painted in ten years and it looks as if someone cleaned their feet by rubbing them against the walls. I tell him NO DEPOSIT!
He backs down and Alex and I go to our rooms for a shower and nap before dinner. We grab a mediocre bite at a locals/travelers hotel talk about our lives and possible plans for the future. I like Alex and the conversation lasts much longer then the second cup of chai much to the consternation of the owner of the hotel.
The Indian people eat fast and leave when they are done whereas almost the opposite holds true for foreigners. There has been more then one time that and owner has given me the "time to leave" look.
Poopara is a small dingy crossroads town with few amenities but sitting up high amongst the tea plantations gives it a little boost.
Here is a picture of me just outside of Poopara.
12 June
Toby reaches Srilanka
Hello everyone,Yea that's right Sri Lanka. A big leap from the last email but I am finding a little time to write lately. I will attempt to yet again play catch up but we all know that it probably won't happen. I last left off with me in Kumily on the bicycle heading to meet up with Vicki in Tiruvannamalai.
Early morning, like yesterday I wake. It's 4:45 and the alarm on the mobile at first softly starts playing the dreaded Rasputin song to inform me that my action of setting it last night has it intended consequences. I search for the phone under the pillow and find it has slipped to the floor under the bed. Now with the alarm growing louder I crawl out of the bed and reach for the blaring little machine. I punch the keypad and it ends, thank the neon deities (oh, and buddha too can be neon). Burning the mosquito coil has taken care of the squadron but has left me with a sore throat and slight cough. The coil was in the farthest-away-from-the-bed spot but still close enough to rasp me. The trade offs we have to make at times. Quick shower and dry, load up the bicycle and I'm off by 5:30.
As I pass the bus station stands I see only one chai stall open so I head for it and grab a short one and a couple of bananas. I ask for directions and they match up with what I heard from others so I'm on my way. The owner of the Elephant Hills Home-stay told me that the road is in bad shape for the first 25k towards Munnar but after the Cardamom Research Center it gets better. I'm not surprised that after 10k the road turns very bad. The ups and downs follow the contours of the hills that I am riding through as expected but there has been a huge amount of road repair/damage to contend with. Sections lasting a few hundred meters are stripped of asphalt and filled in with what I would call five inch crushed rock, most likely made by hand by women on the side of the road. I will never, and nor should any Vashonite, complain about Wax Orchards Road again! Up and down, sometimes walking sometime riding always trying to skirt the mega-holes that eat bikes and riders. Ten to 15k into this quagmire of hazards I see some riders approaching. They hail me and we chat.
Two British chaps started in Cochin and are doing the Munnar, Kumily, loop and ending back up in Cochin. A short trip to get their feet wet, or pedals oiled, for a future longer trip around India. I tell them my plans and we discuss road conditions. They say that the road does in fact get not only better but great after the CRC all the way to Munnar. I tell them what I know about what they may encounter. The lead rider becomes impatient wanting to make some distance before lunch so they leave. I hop back on and pedal some more, which is preferable to walking.
Cruising down a hill, picking up just a little too much speed I hit a hole. Not as bad as the one that bent the rim, and the packs didn't fly off but I hear the sound and feel the mush of escaping air from the back tire. Pinch flat is what it is called when the rim and the tube meet with too much force. I was surprised when the packs flew the other day that I didn't get one then but this will easily make up for that thought. I wheel the bike onto a little side road and start to pull the bags off to flip over the bike. I grab one of my two spare tubes out of the pack along with the handy all-in-one-multi-tool for bikes (with tire irons) and begin to pry off the tire. I tested the Park Alien II before leaving on the trip to India and found that I could disassemble almost my entire bike with it. The only other tools I carry are a small adjustable wrench (for the pedals), needle nose pliers (for pulling cables and so many other possible things like splinters) and a multi-bit screwdriver. The tire comes off with ease and I soon have the new tube in.
During the process I have collected a small crowd to make sure the repair is done correctly. I look up to see that Alex, from Spain, has joined the others. We look at each other knowingly about the happenings and he asks if everything is okay. I say no problem as I start to pump up the tube. The local people have not seen anything like the standard touring pump and are as amazed by it as the quick release wheels.
19 March
100 Rupees for a Ride
This was a hill that just did not give up on becoming steeper as it steadily wore me down. After resting again, I noticed the time and it was getting later then I wanted. Rolling into town without a hotel room usually means overpaying for not the best accommodations. Time for a final push and hopefully that would carry me to the top and with energy and water both running low I hoped it was not far. One can look uphill whether on foot hiking or on a bike and try to judge how far it is to the top but without actually seeing the real top it is easy to fool oneself into thinking it is just over the next rise, around the next bend. I need to know. I see a bus-stop ahead easily recognized by the cue of auto-rickshaws and try to stop and ask. I say try, and I succeeded in stopping but unable to click out of my pedal I landed on my side, in the middle of the road. When someone is in trouble in India, such as I was, the people, as in everyone present, comes rushing to help or at least see what has happened. The mass approached me as I righted the bike and brushed myself off. Okay, okay? Yes, yes, no problem. They are interested, as almost all are, where I am from, my name, what I am doing, how much the bike costs and many more personal questions I chose to answer or not. I ask a young man who is driving a large auto-rickshaw how much to the top. He says 150. I ask how far. Five k. more to go. It is about 5:00 and I am so tired that I know I will be in real trouble if I attempt the last five so I ask, 100? He responds 125. I say 100...... Okay, okay.I take the packs off and throw them in the back and start to lift the bike into the seating area. It is too long so I ask the driver to just hold up the back end for a minute to pop off the front wheel. The crowd, mind you, is still at full attention and lets out a collective gasp of amazement as the wheel come off. It was a mind bending trick that only the truly most talented of magicians could have performed. Ta Daaa! After scrambling over the bike to the seat we head up the remainder of the hill. Admitting defeat or better stated, admitting this was smarter then killing myself I enjoyed the 100 rupee ride. I could see more of the enchanting landscape without having to concentrate on the pavement in front of me. The coolness of the evening air was a welcome passenger for the duration. Around 30 minutes later I was delivered at the top. Thank you neon deities for the sense to overcome my stubborn pride. I paid the driver 100 and tipped him ten more. Wide smiles erupted from both of us. I checked the local lodge... a bit dingy and itchy for my taste