We kicked off our day with a fabulous visit to the Ajanta Caves: over 1000 years old this amazing location features Buddhist temples and two storey rooms carved into the cliffside. When you step inside it’s easy to forget that a) they were chiselled out of the rockface a layer at a time and, b) that it was done with primitive tools and so long ago. There are the remains of wall and ceiling paintings that reveal a far more advanced artistic culture and style than much later medieval English ecclesiastical art. There are also four ‘musical’ pillars which, when you tap them, resonate with a hollow tone perfectly tuned to each other.
An astounding place spoilt only by the hawkers chasing us into the car park trying to sell their books, cards and elephant-themed stone memorabilia. We ended up racing (!) out of the venue only to come to an abrupt stop when the clutch cable came out of its housing. Without the proper tools – which the kind organisers didn’t give us – we had to rely on our mechanic to fix it. As an ex-biker and motoring journo I knew what needed doing but the production crew whisked us back to the hotel instead of giving us a couple of tools and letting us get on with it, which was disappointing. But time wasn’t on our side.
Today was my first day of not driving and just sitting on my arse in the back – I was intrigued to know what the journey was like from Katie’s perspective! It was also her first major day at the handlebars, so once the rickshaw was fixed and loaded up, we headed off. Then stalled. Then headed off. Then stalled. Then headed off again. Once under way, the word for the day became ‘THIRD!!!!!!!’ Katie has a pathological aversion to third gear. Doesn’t matter if she’s changing up or down, she'll either be revving the nuts off the engine or slogging it to the verge of stalling. Shelley and I were almost hoarse by the end of the day. What made it worse was that after just driving about 70km she took the honour of being the driver at the helm when we crossed the 1000km line. I will go absolutely mental if she gets to drive over the finish in Pokhara! She'll become like the roadkill we’ve seen all along our journey which, incidentally is mainly dogs and the occasional goat.
Tiredness is beginning to set in now. With only a few hours of sleep each night and a mode of transport that a terrier would find it hard to get comfy in, we are starting to feel physically a bit weary. But it’s amazing how the occasional a-cappella Kylie sing-song can pick up the spirits and keep the driver awake at the handlebars. We’re even doing harmonies!
However, we weren’t quite as vocal as we pulled into our overnight stop of Khandwar. The sun had just gone down and the streets were thronging with people, mainly muslims out for iftar and psyching themselves up for a festive evening. It was like driving into an ants nest: everybody knowing where they’re going but barely the room to get there. We trundled in convoy down some pretty narrow streets and I think the crew were concerned about the girls being so visible in the rickshaw – especially as Shelley was driving. We never perceived a threat, it was simply that people were intrigued. After navigating what looked like the roughest part of town (although in Khandwar that is just a matter of degrees!) we arrived at our hotel – The Grand. An old British barracks from the days of the Raj, it looked like the last battalion had just left. I spent the first half hour stamping on large black ants who were happily nosing away at my feet and rucksack.
Tomorrow is yet another long stint up to Bhopal. Looking at the map on the side of the rickshaw, our black progress line is beginning to dissect the country with each day. But long ways to go.
No comments:
Post a Comment