We crammed our belongings into metal boxes (panniers) and synthetic cloth (backpacks) containers, inhaled some food-like substance, and slid out of town. The idea was to break the trip up and stay a night in Rankapur, then continue to Jodhpur. We wanted to take the same road we had taken to get to Mt Abu from Udaipur, then split off to head north to Rankapur. We arrived in a junction city called Pinnwalla and asked the way to Rankapur. The people of the town were split, as some pointed one way and others pointed the other way. Somehow we ended up pointing our wheels to the north and headed off. We knew it wasn’t the same way as we had taken before, but the road seemed nice and we are here to explore so away we went. The road took us along the outer edge of the Arvali Mountains and through changing landscape after changing landscape. One minute we were driving in flat desert scrub, the next between a boulder field, and on and on. It turned out to be quite an interesting road.
The decision that brought us to this road would likewise determine our future course for the day, the week, and even the trip. I really love how that happens; the hidden potential in each decision we make. Sometimes decisions are difficult to make, even small and seemingly insignificant ones because we realize the potential behind all of the options themselves. They can lead you down this path or that one, but not both. I always think of life as one of those "Choose your Own Adventure" books-- except that you can’t skip forward to see which choice is the best one, the one that will avoid the trap, or lead you away from the giant squid that would surely swallow and slowly digest you for a thousand years. The choices we make lead us somewhere and we just need to make the best of the path we have chosen and are presently on. At least I think that is what David Hasslehoff once said. Anyway, our particular decision of roads turned out to be a good choice of adventure, it reminded us of the dry and barren landscape of Nevada in July!!! Yes, it was hotter than a snake’s ass in a wagon rut. We were continually met with sustained 60km/hour wind, like the hot breath of the sun itself. At a fuel stop we looked at the maps, felt the heat, and came to grips with the fact that even though it meant 150 km more of hot, dusty highway driving, it made more sense to just head directly to Jodhpur. We were all hot, thirsty, and tired but like true (insane) motorcyclists we gallantly road off northward into the blurry, melting bitumen road.
Chapter April 5 "India on 1 Wheel" or "Dancing with Kevin"
We (Ryan and I) were ahead of Jared and decided to wait for him at a truck stop on the side of the road about 35km outside of Jodhpur. We waited for 20 minutes, worried, then headed back to look for him, hopefully broken down and not beat down. We found him about 10km back off the side of the road, along with two other Indians, a woman and her child. They were huddled over his bike, and we were relieved to see him in one piece. Here’s what happened directly from the horse’s mouth:
I had stopped to get some gas, and was going about 70kmh trying to catch the Scott brothers who were up ahead. Suddenly the bikes' rear pulled hard to the right, I was thinking "fuck, I'm going down" as the back wheel kept sliding right, but just when I thought it was all over, the wheel came back in line, but kept going, now pulling to the left. After repeating this cycle for 6 or seven times, each time thinking I was going to crash, I was able to slow the bike down and bring it to a stop. "Now what" I thought "my friends are way up ahead, the sun is going down, and I'm stck in the middle of the desert with one good tire". Within a minute and a half an Indian man and his wife pulled up on a scooter. He had the rear tire off and was on his way to a puncture wallah within five minutes. He was back in twenty, and we were putting the tire back on when the Scott brothers finally showed up. I cautiously rode the next 20 kilometers to Jodphur with no trouble.
Chapter April 6 "HOT" or "The IHB"
With both wheels on each of our bikes secure and properly inflated, we arrived in Jodhpur by the fading light of dusk. It was a bigger city than we expected (about 1 million people bigger) and by the time we found a place it was dark and we were close to total system failure of body and mind. The next morning we attempted to visit the Jodhpur fort located high on a ridge, menacingly presiding over the center of town. I say ‘attempted to visit’ because the temperature that day reached a nasty 40.6 Celsius (106 Farenheight) and needless to say, it was a bit on the uncomfortable side. We managed to get around the fort, however, and we’re glad we did. The fort itself is considered one of the most dominating and imposing forts in Rajasthan (and rightfully so from what we’ve seen.) The fort walls tower straight up for 40 meters, capped every 10 meters or so around the circumference with turrets and embattlements holding cannons. The fort walls are scarred with numerous old cannon ball blasts, still completely visible today. It was one of the few forts whose palaces you can actually go inside and see rooms relatively unchanged from the glory days of Princely Rajput rule.
That day we also attempted to make reservations for a direct train to Calcutta and were abruptly faced with the ever-present, joyous, classic Indian bureaucracy, "Ye old Indian runaround". The only daily, direct train to Calcutta was booked solid until April 19th, much too late for us. We struggled to get some straight answers about other options and finally found a plausible route from Jodhpur to Varanasi with one train switch and then Varanasi to Calcutta. The important thing to make sure of when transporting motorbikes by way of the Indian Railway System is that the train you are going to use originates from the station you are leaving from. This insures that there is adequate time and space available in the luggage cars to load your bike. We leapt from side to side in one line after another like poor Froggie in "Frogger" dodging cars and hungry crocodiles only trying to make it safely home, or in our case, get some answers. Finally, we just stayed at the window in line #23 and refused to move until someone gave us some answers….ahh, the old tourist tantrum trick. Although it requires some whining and a bit of acting, it works every time. We quickly discovered the train did originate in Jodhpur and head directly to Varanasi, arriving the next morning. The train left that evening from Varanasi, arriving the next afternoon in Calcutta. Once again to make sure, "Does the train from Varanasi to Calcutta ORIGINATE in Varanasi?". An "Indian Head Bob" and a smile were all we were going to get.
The "Indian Head Bob" is a popular, multi-meaning, and sometimes perplexing form of non-verbal communication used by many an Indian. It has given us hours upon hours of enjoyment and bewilderment trying to uncover its meaning. The "IHB", as we’ll refer to it here for convenience sake, consists of rapid side-to-side movement of the head. Not up and down movement like a Western "Yes", nor a twisting motion of side to side signifying "No", but a kind of mixture of the two with the ear moving toward the shoulder and a slight circular motion on the pivot of the neck. Try it. It’s like you’ve just snugged up your necktie and you looking at yourself in the mirror saying, "Wow, do I look kinda silly in this neck tie". Now add a tight, pursed lip smile and there you have it: the "Indian Head Bob". Simple. Not so simple, however, are its varied meanings.
It seems to be up to the receiver of this peculiar non-verbal message transferred from one animal to another to decipher its meaning--a tricky proposition to say the least. The "IHBob" is sometimes simple and sometimes unpredictable. Most often in means "yes", ‘of course", or "sure, go ahead". For example, if you ask a question and it’s an obvious "yes" answer, then you would receive a "IHBob". Confusingly, it can also mean "I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about but I don’t want to offend you by not knowing so I’ll just "bob"". Other uses include the plain old acknowledgement of another’s existence, like a tip of the hat or slight nod. Our favorite use of the "IHBob" is in reply to a compliment given by us, such as "Your English is very good" or " Your shop is very nice", etc. We love this one and find ourselves dispensing the comments (almost always genuinely) to see if we can catch a "IHBob". Sorry, went off on the "IHBobs" for a bit, but we just had to mention them and have actually found ourselves using the "IHB" with out realizing it. Now back to the program.
We were sure (to the best of our abilities considering we were in India) that the trains we booked were the ones we wanted. We stocked up on provisions for the long haul (1900km across the heat of the Indian plains), got up at 5:00am to catch the morning train out, and rode to the train station under the faint glow of the sun’s first proclamation of its return for a new day. After packing the bikes in jute bags for protection and draining the gas completely from the tanks (wink wink), we proceeded to fill out the necessary paperwork and pay the fare and baksheesh (for safe and careful loading of the bikes.) With the bikes safely loaded on the luggage car with no problems, the train headed off on the long journey east with only us and one other fellow (rat bastard) in our section. In the next 27 hours, we were to become 1.33kg (3.72 lbs.) lighter and $900 USD poorer. But that my friends, is a different story…
Chapter April 7 "The Great Train Robbery" or "Soup at Six!"
Ok sure, every traveler has heard stories about theft from tourists while on the train. Hell, the Crowded Planet (Lonely Planet) specifically mentions that it is especially common en route to Varanasi, for some reason. As we left the train station in Jodhpur, we settled into our area of the train. The cars were fairly empty, and we only had one other guy in our section. After about an hour into the journey, Jared and Ryan took a little catnap on the bottom berths, and I was talking to an Indian gentleman in another section. The rat bastard in our section then went up to the top berth and laid out to sleep, which happened to be across from Jared’s backpack. I thought nothing strange of his move-- just that the rat bastard wanted some sleep…
Did we have our guard down? Yes. Just for a minute? Obviously we did. It was a smooth move we can tell you that. It was a harsh reminder to stay alert, no matter where you are. We were too comfortable and maybe not used to traveling on public transport, and got careless. We have even used this lesson to remind us to stay alert with the motorbikes. For example, keep up on the maintenance, always be aware on the road, etc, because it’s when your guard is down or when you get careless that wham! something happens out of the blue. So, Jared is out $900 USD and the web site, I2W, is out of commission indefinitely. That sucks!!! Now, isn’t this the time for someone (after you all read this back home and the encouraging theme music starts in the background) to create the H.J.(A).F (the Help Jared (and Aaron) Fund. Come on, you know, like in the movies. Here, all you do is raise a little money ($904.23, give or take) by going door to door or something and telling everyone our horribly sad story. When you have enough money, you use it to buy us a Kodak camera (model # DC-5000, in silver, Jared hates the black one) and a Sharp mini-disc player/recorder (model # eeeeee, available from fine stores near you) and then send the packaged goods to us. It’s that easy. No, we actually have the situation under control as you can clearly see from our next series of pictures (pieces of art). But we have heard some good news from Kodak…
