THIS IS AN EXPLANATION.
The owner of Wild Grass at Kaziranga Wild Life Sanctuary refused to let me leave. He claimed that I looked exhausted and needed to keep off the bike for a week. This is not a complaint and I required little persuasion. Wild Grass is glorious. So are the animals - and great fellow guests. From Wild Grass I rode back to Guwahati and stayed with the owner's widowed sister for three days, dined with friends, partied with the young (in their sixties), struggled with the Internet (2 days to up load pics for the latest piece for MCN). Now I am in Shilling and being wickedly entertained by the President of the Vintage Car Club of the North East. He owns a WW 11 US army jeep, a 1930s Morris 8 open tourer, a 1950s Studebaker and is rebuilding a 1940s BSA 500 (bike, for the ignorant). Got to bed at 3 a.m. this morning and the Shillong Enfield riders are coming to the house this evening. Help! If they leave me in a state to move we will play a few holes of golf tomorrow early then ride (bikes not horses)-
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
WHY HAVEN'T I?
KAZIRANGA WILD LIFE SANCTUARY: APRIL 3
Why haven't I uploaded stuff onto the Blog? I don't have a memory stick with me because I didn't expect the power to be on - or, if it was on, for the Web connection in the cubicle behind the Chemist shop to be operative.
I rode in from WILD GRASS to find quinine for night cramps. I have new medication proscribed by a heart specialist in Gangtok. The anti-cramps pills don't work. I have had cramps in my feet and legs the past three nights. Hurts like hell and I can't get to the bathroom safely. That explains the chemist...
Does he have quinine?
No.
I shall try a jungle Doctor (Tribal!). Surely Jungle docs proscribe quinine for malaria.
Why haven't I uploaded stuff onto the Blog? I don't have a memory stick with me because I didn't expect the power to be on - or, if it was on, for the Web connection in the cubicle behind the Chemist shop to be operative.
I rode in from WILD GRASS to find quinine for night cramps. I have new medication proscribed by a heart specialist in Gangtok. The anti-cramps pills don't work. I have had cramps in my feet and legs the past three nights. Hurts like hell and I can't get to the bathroom safely. That explains the chemist...
Does he have quinine?
No.
I shall try a jungle Doctor (Tribal!). Surely Jungle docs proscribe quinine for malaria.
TRIBALS
KAZIRANGA WILD LIFE SANCTUARY; APRIL 3
Define Tribals in order of National importance:
Tourist Attractions.
Country people considered inferior.
Country people for whom the Government hasn't built schools.
Or hospitals...
Add the following from talking with an Assamese University Professor.
Was he Tribal?
Certainly not. His people invaded Assam a few centuries ago. Originally they came from Thailand.
Thus we have a fourth definition of Tribal: Losers...
Define Tribals in order of National importance:
Tourist Attractions.
Country people considered inferior.
Country people for whom the Government hasn't built schools.
Or hospitals...
Add the following from talking with an Assamese University Professor.
Was he Tribal?
Certainly not. His people invaded Assam a few centuries ago. Originally they came from Thailand.
Thus we have a fourth definition of Tribal: Losers...
WILD GRASS
KAZIRANGA WILD LIFE SANCTUARY: MAY 2
Great day yesterday - except for the standard problems of Internet and power. Power cuts are called Load Shedding - great terminology! The load shedding last two, three or four hours at a time, occur at least once and usually twice and often three times daily. I am staying at WILD GRASS. Check it out on the Web.
Yesterday in the Sanctuary a rhino walked down a grass swathe by the river and up over the track immediately behind the jeep. All hell broke loose a few minutes later. The rhino was charging at us down the track - so the forest ranger said as he tried to load his rifle. He was still trying when two buffalo charged by through the forest in one of those male on male power struggles.
Also seen, Jungle fowl. So they are wild chickens - no. Chickens are domesticated Jungle Fowl.
Great day yesterday - except for the standard problems of Internet and power. Power cuts are called Load Shedding - great terminology! The load shedding last two, three or four hours at a time, occur at least once and usually twice and often three times daily. I am staying at WILD GRASS. Check it out on the Web.
Yesterday in the Sanctuary a rhino walked down a grass swathe by the river and up over the track immediately behind the jeep. All hell broke loose a few minutes later. The rhino was charging at us down the track - so the forest ranger said as he tried to load his rifle. He was still trying when two buffalo charged by through the forest in one of those male on male power struggles.
Also seen, Jungle fowl. So they are wild chickens - no. Chickens are domesticated Jungle Fowl.
TIGER HILL
DARJEELING: APRIL 3
I don't care for gloom – even Historic, as in castles and Tudor manor houses. The Mayfair Hotel, Darjeeling, is a rare beast amongst Heritage buildings: rooms are light. It is also a hotel where guests talk to each other. The library boasts six-seater sofas and opulently comfortable armchairs. Barefoot diplomats from the US Embassy in Kathmandu share a beer with a couple of Brits. All four were up before dawn to witness sun rise from the peak of Tiger Hill – in company with a few hundred Indian tourists. What did they see? Cloud. How was the cloud? Damp and depressing. Ah, well...
I don't care for gloom – even Historic, as in castles and Tudor manor houses. The Mayfair Hotel, Darjeeling, is a rare beast amongst Heritage buildings: rooms are light. It is also a hotel where guests talk to each other. The library boasts six-seater sofas and opulently comfortable armchairs. Barefoot diplomats from the US Embassy in Kathmandu share a beer with a couple of Brits. All four were up before dawn to witness sun rise from the peak of Tiger Hill – in company with a few hundred Indian tourists. What did they see? Cloud. How was the cloud? Damp and depressing. Ah, well...
BUBBLY BLISS
DARJEELING: APRIL 3
I have transported my miseries to the Mayfair Hotel. The Mayfair does luxury. The manager throws wide the curtains on a close-up of cloud. No cloud and the view would stretch for a few hundred miles. When did the cloud last lift? February? Or was it January? Or December? I don't give a damn. Keep the view. Get rid of the manager (politely). Gush steaming water into the bath. Add a full bottle of Molton Brown hoarded from the Umaid Bavhan Palace. Hang the DON'T DISTURB sign on the door. Shush now...Don't even breathe. Grandpa is meditating in bubbly bliss...
I have transported my miseries to the Mayfair Hotel. The Mayfair does luxury. The manager throws wide the curtains on a close-up of cloud. No cloud and the view would stretch for a few hundred miles. When did the cloud last lift? February? Or was it January? Or December? I don't give a damn. Keep the view. Get rid of the manager (politely). Gush steaming water into the bath. Add a full bottle of Molton Brown hoarded from the Umaid Bavhan Palace. Hang the DON'T DISTURB sign on the door. Shush now...Don't even breathe. Grandpa is meditating in bubbly bliss...
MEDICATION WON'T SUFFICE
DARJEELING: APRIL 2
Bollywood is shooting a movie at the Hotel Swiss. A tall, slim, very Gay Thirties wears a woollie hat with a bobble. I'm unsure as to his title but he's the man who makes things happen. My camera is beyond him. I traipse from camera shop to camera shop. Darjeeling scores an A+ for vertical streets, an X- for camera technicians. The film crew eat packed lunches and packed dinners leaving me as the only guest in the dinning room. My head hurts. My shoulder hurts. My back hurts. My right knee hurts. These pains are to be expected in an old fool who falls off a bike (even riding zero Ks an hour). Medication won't suffice. I need laughter and a smidgen of five star luxury. The Swiss is a small charming Heritage building and I am not registering a complaint. However, dispelling my misery requires more. For instance a bubble bath...
Bollywood is shooting a movie at the Hotel Swiss. A tall, slim, very Gay Thirties wears a woollie hat with a bobble. I'm unsure as to his title but he's the man who makes things happen. My camera is beyond him. I traipse from camera shop to camera shop. Darjeeling scores an A+ for vertical streets, an X- for camera technicians. The film crew eat packed lunches and packed dinners leaving me as the only guest in the dinning room. My head hurts. My shoulder hurts. My back hurts. My right knee hurts. These pains are to be expected in an old fool who falls off a bike (even riding zero Ks an hour). Medication won't suffice. I need laughter and a smidgen of five star luxury. The Swiss is a small charming Heritage building and I am not registering a complaint. However, dispelling my misery requires more. For instance a bubble bath...
WILD LIFE SANCTUARY
I saw at least thirty black rhino yesterday. Am now trying to upload Blog before the next electricity cut.
Monday, April 26, 2010
KAZIRANGA WILD LIFE SANCTUARY
OK, I am in Kaziranga, Assam. My telephone doesn't work in Assam. Heavy storms over the past days and electricity has joined internet in being haphazard. I shall ride an elephant tomorrow and see black rhino, deer, buffalo and wild boar - many birds - though unlikely to see tigers as grass is too long. Have been trying to upload Blogs from memory stick here at a computer back of the local chemist! No luck...
Maybe the chemist (also a journalist and filming as I write) can make a suggestion. Cheers to all. Yes, and I AM HAVING A GREAT TIME!
Maybe the chemist (also a journalist and filming as I write) can make a suggestion. Cheers to all. Yes, and I AM HAVING A GREAT TIME!
Thursday, April 22, 2010
HAPHAZARD WEB ACCESS
Web access in India is haphazard. I am on for the first time today at 10 p.m. and need to get to bed as I must be mobile by 6 a.m.
A bunch of Blogs are ready to upload that will bring me up to date here in Sikkim. I ride to Assam tomorrow, no Email for two or three days. Guaharti will be my first opportunity. Cheers...
A bunch of Blogs are ready to upload that will bring me up to date here in Sikkim. I ride to Assam tomorrow, no Email for two or three days. Guaharti will be my first opportunity. Cheers...
ONE MORE FALL
DARJEELING: APRIL 1
A Swiss baker built the Hotel Swiss in the 1920s as a family home and place of work.
Now Help Tourism have the lease and run the hotel as a training ground for local employees. I follow the pick-up down a steep narrow road. The turn to the hotel is on a sharp corner and at an angle of 300 degrees. The gradient is even more acute. Three tour jeeps parked on the corner bar the pick-up from making the turn. The driver waves me on. I creep in first gear. An Indian tourist seated in one of the jeeps opens the door in my face. I can't hold the bike upright against the slope. Down I go, head in the ditch. A couple of drivers drag me and the bike upright. The Indian tourist continues chatting on his mobile.
A Swiss baker built the Hotel Swiss in the 1920s as a family home and place of work.
Now Help Tourism have the lease and run the hotel as a training ground for local employees. I follow the pick-up down a steep narrow road. The turn to the hotel is on a sharp corner and at an angle of 300 degrees. The gradient is even more acute. Three tour jeeps parked on the corner bar the pick-up from making the turn. The driver waves me on. I creep in first gear. An Indian tourist seated in one of the jeeps opens the door in my face. I can't hold the bike upright against the slope. Down I go, head in the ditch. A couple of drivers drag me and the bike upright. The Indian tourist continues chatting on his mobile.
TOY TRAIN
TO DARJEELINMG: APRIL 1
The mountain town of Ghoom is an unplanned slum of concrete ugliness and garbage. A spur of Darjeeling's Toy Train runs down the main street. I came off in Colon, Panama, trying to cross the track at two acute an angle. Rails trapped the front wheel. Lesson learnt, I meet the tfrack now at near ninety degrees. Darjeeling sprawls along an even more precipitous ridge. The ridge was suitable as a site for a few small health spars, boarding schools and summer bungalows for the British Raj. The modern town is a disaster. Small concrete hotels of unremitting ugliness crowd one another and squueze into non-existence those few remnants of reasonable taste. A good shake would drop the whole mess down the mountain.
Where is the Planning Authority, the urban Administration? Are the Administrators ashamed of their creation? Or are the blind to the awfulness?
Perhaps they live elsewhere.
The mountain town of Ghoom is an unplanned slum of concrete ugliness and garbage. A spur of Darjeeling's Toy Train runs down the main street. I came off in Colon, Panama, trying to cross the track at two acute an angle. Rails trapped the front wheel. Lesson learnt, I meet the tfrack now at near ninety degrees. Darjeeling sprawls along an even more precipitous ridge. The ridge was suitable as a site for a few small health spars, boarding schools and summer bungalows for the British Raj. The modern town is a disaster. Small concrete hotels of unremitting ugliness crowd one another and squueze into non-existence those few remnants of reasonable taste. A good shake would drop the whole mess down the mountain.
Where is the Planning Authority, the urban Administration? Are the Administrators ashamed of their creation? Or are the blind to the awfulness?
Perhaps they live elsewhere.
UP AND DOWN THE MOUNTAINS
TO DARJEELING: APRIL 1
The road winds all the way down through broad leaf forest and all the way up to clipped tea gardens part hidden in layers of mist or low-lying cloud, hairpin turn after hairpin turn, harsh chill down to soggy sweat and back to chill. In Europe the road would be considered single track. Here jeeps squeeze by each other. No busses. Meet a truck and one or other driver pulls to the narrow verge. The drop is only a few hundred feet and is seldom sheer. Imagine rolling down through emerald tea bushes. Not fun but interesting - and probably not fatal. Tin-roof cottages are little bigger than a normal living-room back home. Village shops are smaller. Shiny packets of crisps hang above a tiny counter, open sacks of rice and millet, cigarettes, biscuits, a few bottles of soft drinks. The wind is less than yesterday. The nagging pain in my chest is the same as are the women carrying huge baskets supported on a head band. They respond to my Hi or Namaste with such open smiles, so un-Indian. Old men in wool hats salute with raised hands and flash pink gums. Old? I am probably older. It promises to be a good day...
The road winds all the way down through broad leaf forest and all the way up to clipped tea gardens part hidden in layers of mist or low-lying cloud, hairpin turn after hairpin turn, harsh chill down to soggy sweat and back to chill. In Europe the road would be considered single track. Here jeeps squeeze by each other. No busses. Meet a truck and one or other driver pulls to the narrow verge. The drop is only a few hundred feet and is seldom sheer. Imagine rolling down through emerald tea bushes. Not fun but interesting - and probably not fatal. Tin-roof cottages are little bigger than a normal living-room back home. Village shops are smaller. Shiny packets of crisps hang above a tiny counter, open sacks of rice and millet, cigarettes, biscuits, a few bottles of soft drinks. The wind is less than yesterday. The nagging pain in my chest is the same as are the women carrying huge baskets supported on a head band. They respond to my Hi or Namaste with such open smiles, so un-Indian. Old men in wool hats salute with raised hands and flash pink gums. Old? I am probably older. It promises to be a good day...
WIZENED ELF IN GOLDEN RUBBER BOOTS
NEORA VALLEY: APRIL 1
Goodbye to Uttam Paul and the wizened elf in golden rubber boots. Rain fell in the night. The track will be slippery. Having ridden it once, I have nothing to prove. Sensible to load the bike into the pick-up. Comfort is nil: bounce, bounce, bounce.
Walking would be pure pleasure.
We meet an Indian biker/film maker at the track's junction with the road. He films us unloading the bike and I talk to camera – the usual stuff. Why I ride a small Honda: reliability, fuel consumption, light-weight maneuverability. And that there is nothing remarkable in what I do. Millions of people ride a bike to work each morning. All I do is ride further.
Enough talk, get in the saddle: Brmmm, Brmmm...
Goodbye to Uttam Paul and the wizened elf in golden rubber boots. Rain fell in the night. The track will be slippery. Having ridden it once, I have nothing to prove. Sensible to load the bike into the pick-up. Comfort is nil: bounce, bounce, bounce.
Walking would be pure pleasure.
We meet an Indian biker/film maker at the track's junction with the road. He films us unloading the bike and I talk to camera – the usual stuff. Why I ride a small Honda: reliability, fuel consumption, light-weight maneuverability. And that there is nothing remarkable in what I do. Millions of people ride a bike to work each morning. All I do is ride further.
Enough talk, get in the saddle: Brmmm, Brmmm...
MELODRAMATIC OLD MAN
NEORA VALLEY: APRIL 1
Pale daylight seeps round the curtains as I pad to the bathroom for the fourth time in the night. Fresh out of bed my balance is never good. My spine and ankles and the knuckle on my right index-finger hurt. Back to bed and I cuddle under the duvets – a few minutes to 5 a.m. and not much hope of getting back to sleep. I face a long ride through the mountains to Darjeeling and wish that I wasn't so tired. This journey has been too much for me. Just this once I'm writing the truth: that I'm scared of failure and scared of suffering some sort of physical collapse. I am 77 years old and having to get up in the night is standard. So are the painful joints. They don't matter. The heart scares me. I intend to keep going of course. I'll enjoy the journey most of the time. It is a great experience. But the fear is there and this wretched exhaustion. Enough of this melodramatic self-indulgence. I'll be scaring my children – that's if they read this Blog. Open the curtains and watch the dawn mist smoke through the trees; hot shower, drag on a thick jumper and sit out on the porch. The Neora Valley is a Wild Life Sanctuary and birds are abundant – though I can't name any. Ignorant Old Man...
Pale daylight seeps round the curtains as I pad to the bathroom for the fourth time in the night. Fresh out of bed my balance is never good. My spine and ankles and the knuckle on my right index-finger hurt. Back to bed and I cuddle under the duvets – a few minutes to 5 a.m. and not much hope of getting back to sleep. I face a long ride through the mountains to Darjeeling and wish that I wasn't so tired. This journey has been too much for me. Just this once I'm writing the truth: that I'm scared of failure and scared of suffering some sort of physical collapse. I am 77 years old and having to get up in the night is standard. So are the painful joints. They don't matter. The heart scares me. I intend to keep going of course. I'll enjoy the journey most of the time. It is a great experience. But the fear is there and this wretched exhaustion. Enough of this melodramatic self-indulgence. I'll be scaring my children – that's if they read this Blog. Open the curtains and watch the dawn mist smoke through the trees; hot shower, drag on a thick jumper and sit out on the porch. The Neora Valley is a Wild Life Sanctuary and birds are abundant – though I can't name any. Ignorant Old Man...
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
SUBSERVIENT SPECIES
NEORA VALLEY: MARCH 31
The three couples from Kolkata represent a pleasant facet of India's economic success –anti TV, anti computer games, pro wild life, pro ecology. Sad that this attitude isn't more prevalent. Mid-age with young children, they explore, on holiday, the less known and less developed areas of India – mountains, nature reserves, wild life sanctuaries, temples and fortresses less visited and difficult to reach. Their advice is to explore the North East States. When I write of their advice I write of the three men. The women remain separate, care for the kids, talk amongst themselves, return to their cabins. A subservient species? What do I know? I am merely an observer.
The three couples from Kolkata represent a pleasant facet of India's economic success –anti TV, anti computer games, pro wild life, pro ecology. Sad that this attitude isn't more prevalent. Mid-age with young children, they explore, on holiday, the less known and less developed areas of India – mountains, nature reserves, wild life sanctuaries, temples and fortresses less visited and difficult to reach. Their advice is to explore the North East States. When I write of their advice I write of the three men. The women remain separate, care for the kids, talk amongst themselves, return to their cabins. A subservient species? What do I know? I am merely an observer.
QUALITIES SADLY MISTAKEN FOR WEAKNESS
NEORA VALLEY: MARCH 31
Stone steps bordered by ferns and bamboo lead to the dinning hall on a higher terrace. Orchids droop between the rocks of the retaining walls. Three further cabins are occupied by holidaying families from Kolkata. The cabins have mezzanines and sleep four. Uttam Paul designed the buildings and oversaw construction by local villagers. His father was a doctor on a tea estate. Uttam married locally and has a house in Lava. He is a neat trim man in his early fifties and speaks quietly and strikes me as both gentle and thoughtful – qualities sadly mistaken for weakness in our modern culture. Uttam is tough minded and a stubborn and dedicated fighter and worker for his community and ecology.
Stone steps bordered by ferns and bamboo lead to the dinning hall on a higher terrace. Orchids droop between the rocks of the retaining walls. Three further cabins are occupied by holidaying families from Kolkata. The cabins have mezzanines and sleep four. Uttam Paul designed the buildings and oversaw construction by local villagers. His father was a doctor on a tea estate. Uttam married locally and has a house in Lava. He is a neat trim man in his early fifties and speaks quietly and strikes me as both gentle and thoughtful – qualities sadly mistaken for weakness in our modern culture. Uttam is tough minded and a stubborn and dedicated fighter and worker for his community and ecology.
NOT BAD FOR A CAMP
NEORA VALLEY: MARCH 31
I write this on a bench on the log cabin's porch. The driver squats on the outer edge of the car park parapet (dead drop for ever), mobile phone to his ear – calling his wife of course. How is the baby? Villages the far side of the steep valley are a thin scattering of tin roofs on terraced patches of darker green amidst broad-leaf trees. Look beyond to snow caps tinted with gold by the evening sun. There lie the Natula and Gelepla Passes into Nepal and Tibet.
I write this on a bench on the log cabin's porch. The driver squats on the outer edge of the car park parapet (dead drop for ever), mobile phone to his ear – calling his wife of course. How is the baby? Villages the far side of the steep valley are a thin scattering of tin roofs on terraced patches of darker green amidst broad-leaf trees. Look beyond to snow caps tinted with gold by the evening sun. There lie the Natula and Gelepla Passes into Nepal and Tibet.
NEAR PERFECT MATTRESS
NEORA VALLEY: MARCH 31
Help Tourism's local director/partner, Uttam Paul, greets me with a silk saffron scarf and glass of locally brewed liquor that tastes of blackberries and is probably lethal. A flagstone footpath and stone steps lead to the comfortable porch of a one-bedroom log cabin. Within lies total luxury: polished wood floors, double bed with top sheet folded over blankets and duvet, near perfect mattress, small dressing-room, bathroom with steam-hot water, thick towels. My only comment, Wow!
Help Tourism's local director/partner, Uttam Paul, greets me with a silk saffron scarf and glass of locally brewed liquor that tastes of blackberries and is probably lethal. A flagstone footpath and stone steps lead to the comfortable porch of a one-bedroom log cabin. Within lies total luxury: polished wood floors, double bed with top sheet folded over blankets and duvet, near perfect mattress, small dressing-room, bathroom with steam-hot water, thick towels. My only comment, Wow!
WALKER'S BLISS
NEORA VALLEY: MARCH 31
That last, Not really, is untrue. Forget the road as dry boulder-strewn river bed. The straight stretches give magical glimpses of the valley between giant conifers. Ferns cascade from the uphill side of the track; rocks cocooned in moss, crystal clear rivulets; palest of pale-yellow butterflies chase each other, scent of leaf mold and pine tar – twelve kilometers of walker's bliss! Even the bad bits can't be that bad if a septuagenarian can handle them on a small bike. The turn to the camp is on the right under one of those square archways. The final ascent to the parking lot is near vertical mud. I don't do mud. Nor does the Honda. We get three quarters of the way up before beginning to slip backwards. Add two-villager power and we make it. A wizened elf shod in gold rubber boots grabs my bags out of the pick-up. What is a camp? What will I find? Presumably one or other end of cold-water basic...
That last, Not really, is untrue. Forget the road as dry boulder-strewn river bed. The straight stretches give magical glimpses of the valley between giant conifers. Ferns cascade from the uphill side of the track; rocks cocooned in moss, crystal clear rivulets; palest of pale-yellow butterflies chase each other, scent of leaf mold and pine tar – twelve kilometers of walker's bliss! Even the bad bits can't be that bad if a septuagenarian can handle them on a small bike. The turn to the camp is on the right under one of those square archways. The final ascent to the parking lot is near vertical mud. I don't do mud. Nor does the Honda. We get three quarters of the way up before beginning to slip backwards. Add two-villager power and we make it. A wizened elf shod in gold rubber boots grabs my bags out of the pick-up. What is a camp? What will I find? Presumably one or other end of cold-water basic...
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