We were woken at 6am to a tremendous din of bells and music. I would call it a rude awakening except that it was due to the devotions of the faithful on the Ghandi Ghat, which was virtually under our hotel window. As it was only a short hop today between Pushkar and Ajmer, we allowed ourselves to snooze again and have a leisurely start to the day with breakfast on the terrace overlooking the peaceful lake.

The road from Pushkar to Ajmer took us over Snake ‘Mountain’ (less than 100m climb) from a small Hindu town to a largely Muslim city of half a million people. As we came over the pass we could see the city before us surrounding a large lake and we were soon into the heart of it. Finding our hotel was rather tricky as ‘googlemaps’ took us straight through the main bazaar area and its mass of narrow winding alleys, battling with people, motorbikes and tuktuks. When we finally found it we found that we could have come a longer way round on a proper road! Would have been more straightforward but not as much fun!

We were settled in by noon and soon set out to explore the city. Plunging back into Diggi bazaar was far easier without the bikes. A riot of colour and people, it’s narrow alleys had a different feel to other cities with similar snaking backstreets. Difficult to put a finger on just how, but the Muslim influence seemed to make the place feel distinctly different. The part we walked through first was a mass of food and sweet stalls, and we had a quick samosa with a delicious sizzling sauce.

We were heading towards the Dargah of Khwaja – the tomb of the Sufi saint Khwaja Muin-ud din Chishti, who came to Ajmer from Persia in 1192 and died there in1236. It is a major pilgrimage centre. Just as we approached the Friday ‘call to prayer’ sounded from the mosque within the complex and hoards of people were surging in. So we decided this was not the right moment to try and visit!

As we walked away from the shrine from the main entry gate the roadway was lined with hideously deformed beggars – seeking funds from those on the way to the mosque, not tourists (there were no other tourists). We have heard the stories of beggars being deliberately maimed and ‘pitches’ being highly organised and sold. We don’t know the truth of it but it was gruesome and macabre. The deformities could not be downplayed but there was a lot of rolling around in the dust and dirt, which did seem exaggerated. None of the faithful streaming towards the mosque seemed to be giving any money to them (but maybe they got money after prayers). We hurried through and when we returned later made sure we did not go that way.

Our next stop was another totally extraordinary place. The Nasiyan Jain temple was built in 1865. The outer part was of red stone but the inner double temple hall was an amazing gold ‘diorama’ (a model representing a scene with 3 dimensional figures), depicting the Jain concept of the ancient world with continents, oceans, golden cities and flying gondolas. It was abut the size of a two or three squash courts, and was quite unlike anything we had seen before!  The wall posters explained the history of Jainism and how the mystics developed their views of the world. It was a strange, unscientific view of the world but was no more absurd than the Pope’s attacks on Leonardo da Vinci for suggesting that the earth rotated around the sun.

Strolling back through the bazaar took us into different areas, for example one was a series of what looked like jewellery repairs – small alcoves with men sitting cross legged using intricate tools. One of the delights of a city like this is wandering – not knowing what is around a corner and finding a ruined palace, Anglican church (St. John the Evangelist – just around the corner from our hotel) or a series of shops that just sold motor bike parts.

Later in the afternoon we went back to the Sufi shrine. Again it was quite extraordinary, although in a completely different way. The complex could be entered from different gates within the heart of the bazaar. Once we had removed our shoes and entered, the contrast between the noise and dust and narrow alleys of the bazaar with the marble floored area of courtyards, mosque and shrine was marked. It was full of pilgrims and we felt rather out of place and a bit voyeuristic, but no one seemed to mind and we were probably over sensitive. No photos though. There were numerous stalls selling devotional nicknacks and baskets of flowers that were being brought to offer within the shrine.

People were sitting in groups and individually, many round the walls of the shrine offering their prayers. We did not try to go into the heart of the shrine, as the lines of people with their offerings seemed strictly controlled and it seemed lacking in respect to do so. Although there was something about this place that we could understand, it felt a profoundly holy place.

Back in the mundane of our hotel we felt in need of a ‘brew’. We often use our little stove in the ensuite shower rooms. This one was rather posher so we hesitated but there was a door opening onto a ventilation shaft so we thought it would be ok – and then realised we had forgotten to fill our fuel bottle this morning (the stove- a whisperlite – burns pretty much anything flammable but we usually use petrol as it is available everywhere.)

The drive for a cuppa had us out again looking for a petrol station. Eventually we found one after a long walk down a road with hundreds of tuktuk and motorbike repair shops, and lots of oily men who plainly work wonders with engines. We found a garage and asked for our 50 rupees of petrol. They did not seem to think it too unusual that 2 white people strolled into their petrol station with a small fuel bottle and asked for it to be filled – or if they did they hid it well! Back to the hotel just as it was getting dark and had our well earned drink!

So today was a day in a fascinating Indian city, so different in many ways to anywhere we had been before but also, in many ways, so typical of the delights we have experienced over the last month or so. An England only occupied by the English may seem pretty drab after we return, but luckily that England disappeared a long time ago and, particularly in London, we will have plenty of international colour to keep reminding us of these precious days.

Today got off to a slightly delayed start but – so what! We agreed to have breakfast at 7.30am so we could get a reasonably early start. There was no movement at 7.35am, so I went to find our host. He seemed startled at being disturbed, looked at his watch and said “15 minutes”. Knowing that would be at least half an hour I said “But we agreed breakfast at 7.30”. “5 minutes, 5 minutes …” was the surprised response. 15 minutes later we got omelettes (rather good) and toast. We were on our way by about 8.15 or so – with a good tip for the team (despite the slightly peculiar nature of the stay).

The cycling was a repeat of yesterday with 2 changes. It was broadly the same scenery – fields and desert – and the same mixture of good and bad road surfaces. The first difference was that it was only 85km today and not 125km. Ludicrously, that felt like a “short” day now.

Secondly, there was 50km uphill. When I say “uphill”, that is a bit of an exaggeration – the road was an upward slope for more or less 50km. But it only went up 250m and thus was going up about 5m per km.   It was like cycling on a very flat plain which had been ever so slightly tilted so that it rose at a more or less constant rate.

We passed a few desert towns with nothing particular to recommend them except sand on the main street which brought our bicycles to a grinding halt and the usual range of shops, stalls and cattle. Between the towns the road surfaces were mostly reasonable, but occasionally it was more sand – but of the harder variety. We saw a few more camels, lots of young men on motorbikes and lots of women driving cattle or walking back from collecting firewood with the day’s collection on their heads.

There was also a high quotient of “selfie-seekers” today – all young men. One young man on a motorbike was quite offended when we said no, we would not loose all momentum by stopping cycling so he and his friends could have selfies with someone he did not know and would never meet again. We are such kill-joys but we can just continue peddling. If they catch us when we are stationary, the line of least resistance is to say yes, but stopping when we are underway is a different matter.

Rajasthan seems from our brief acquaintance to be a place where female emancipation has some way to go. The way that some young men leered at Bernie as they passed on their motorbikes was fairly transparent and did not reflect well on them (despite the fact Bernie is senior enough to be their mother or possibly even their grandmother).   Seeing a woman’s legs in public is pretty unusual here and I suppose the reaction is understandable even if I felt like knocking some of them off their bikes for the cheek of it.

Having said that, this was very much a minority reaction. The vast majority of people we meet are friendly, wave and say nice things.   But roles seem pretty rigid here, with 95% of people on bikes or in cars are men and not a single man collecting firewood. On the plus side, judging by the evidence of school uniforms, school attendance seems to be by both boys and girls, well into the teens. So girls are being educated. What happens next is not something we have enough information to comment on.

Pushkar has a reputation as a “holy place” for Hindus and as a magnet for backpackers – a slightly unusual combination; but the backpackers originally came in part for spiritual enlightenment so it is not that surprising. It is centred around a lake, nestling at the foot of a mountain. The setting is superb and invests the air with the feelings of mysticism. It is the place where Mahatma Ghandi’s ashes were scattered here. One of the things we have noticed is the extent to which Ghandi is still the moral father of the nation. His sayings are on posters in railway waiting rooms and restaurants, reminding modern Indians of the values that drove the creation of the nation. Hence choosing Puskhar as the final resting place for Ghandi’s ashes gives this little town a huge national significance.

We watched as Hindu pilgrims bathed in the water, much in the same way as adherents to religions all over the world are cleansed by the wonderful properties of H2O. “Holy water” is a timeless concept that stretches from Catholicism through to Hinduism and with a great number of religions between.

Today, away for the lake, it is a maze of shops selling the type of clothes that no self-respecting Indian would be seen dead in but are popular with the backpackers as “Indian” style clothes.   There are cafés here and loads of young westerners, exploring their inner selves.

After we arrived we went looking for a snack and ended up a falafel wrap stall – delicious but not something we have seen in any other part of Rajasthan. There were a group of delightful young people in their 20s – and we felt a bit “old” in their company. We chatted and eventually disclosed what we were doing, and they were stunned; totally stunned. They could not believe anyone as old as us was doing anything as crazy as we were doing (and had done). I felt a bit bashful at their response, assuring them that we were not super-fitness-freaks and that most of the roads we went on were quiet and well off the beaten track. Nonetheless, part of me was quietly satisfied at dispelling some of their assumptions about what folk can do when they reach the other side of the great 5-0. I did not dare tell them that one of my best mates – who is the other side of the great 7-0 – was on a 2 month mountain bike tour of New Zealand. There are some things that 20 year olds may simply disbelieve. Chapeau Malcolm – love the blog posts.

Then back to the quaint hotel for some R & R – reading, writing (making progress with the book chapter) and a rather indifferent “tourist grade” meal. Pushkar gets the thumbs up as a peaceful, spiritual place despite al the tourist trappings.

For a day where nothing much happened it was immensely enjoyable. We did our longest day, but at less than 200m climbing it was no where near our most difficult day and we got into the meditative rhythm of ‘flat’ cycling.

Continue reading Day 38 Osian to Ganthiya. 125km. 170m climbing. →

Today was a day when the work returned for the first time this trip. I cannot say who I was advising or what it was about, but it would not wait until my return so half a day was spent sitting in a hotel room with dodgy internet, writing an Advice. I suppose it will pay for a few days (or more than a few days) travelling but it brought me back to reality with a bump. I remain of the view that work is way overrated as a pastime.

However, we started the day at about 9am – late by our standards. We ambled out of Jodhpur, up and down a few narrow streets and managed to avoid being hit by motor bikes or hitting any cows – but it was a close run thing on both at times.

The outskirts went on for a long time, then turned into a series of quarries so it was not that great, but we were soon out in the open countryside. Cycling in the flat scrub desert can sometimes feel like one is on an exercise-cycle in the gym. It can be fairly monotonous, then something of interest comes along.

We stopped for a tea break at one point and became the centre of attention. There was no doubt that the most weird thing about us was not that we arrived on bicycles, or even that we came all the way from England. We were really marked out as mega-strange because we asked for black tea with no sugar.   The locals warmed to us, exchanged views about cycling and tutted about our strange choice of beverage.

After 55km we arrived in Oisin, well before lunch. It is a desert town that has seen better days, but used to have over 40 Hindu and Jain temples because it was a crossroads for the caravans coming from the west. Most temples are now discarded and in various stages of decay, but a few have survived. We visited one after lunch that was clearly set up for mass pilgrims, with lots and lots of places for people to file along before doing their devotions. It had some good carvings but overall did not impress me.

I then had my period of work, and just before 6 we went out to try to find another temple. It took some finding around the backstreets but once we got there it was well worth the hunt. This was a C8th Jain temple and was exquisite in all respects. It was peaceful, the carvings were beautiful and the whole atmosphere was amazing. We were the only visitors and ambled around for about half an hour taking in the feel of the place. Then, as the light was fading, we returned to the hotel and had an excellent (vegetarian) meal in the next door café.

Tomorrow is a proper cycling day so this is a short blog!

Today started with 2 shocks – one was being in a state of half sleep, half awake and hearing the call for prayer reverberating round the city but being able to drop back into slumber again. The second was waking properly and finding a cloudy day. We haven’t seen a cloud since Ooty – way back weeks ago. Our fears that Rajasthan may be too hot totally unfounded. Even the sunny days have only peaked in the high 20s and today much cooler.

After a very lazy slow start to the day we ventured out. First was the famous ‘omelette shop’ at the entrance to Sadar Market where a multitude of different types of omelette can be rustled up, slapped between 2 slices of white bread and consumed sitting on plastic stools by the stall. Delicious and a good meeting place, where we chatted to 2 travellers from the UK and one from Bangladesh.

We then climbed the hill up to Mehrengargh fort, a huge complex that broods over the city. We took the audio guide, which is one of the best we have ever done, and made our way round the huge battlements, doors with steel spikes to deter marauding army elephants and then into the palace complex.

The architecture was stunning but they had also created a fantastic museum of paintings, fabrics, armouries, palanquins etc. It was fascinating, interesting, intelligent and with stunning views over the city. We really enjoyed the visit.

The rest of the afternoon was spent back at the guest house. David continued his book writing on the rooftop, I did ‘chores’ (washing , filtering water, shopping) and spent time reading.

In the evening strolled out and went to the ‘step well’. We weren’t sure what this was but it was an amazing structure of steep tiered steps down to a pond.

We then went to the ‘best restaurant in town’ and had a fantastic meal. We bumped into a couple from New Zealand that we had walked up the hill with to the fort, Peter and Erica, and joined them in good conversation, great food and amazing 360 views up to the fort and over the market area. All on all a great day off.

Today was a breeze – in all senses of the word and hardly felt like doing any serious cycling at all.   We packed up and left the anonymous but friendly hotel in Pali, and turned South to access the Pali by-pass.

This was a 2 lane highway with a shoulder – flat as a pancake with a following wind. It was Sunday morning but there were quite a lot of trucks about, although with the 2 lanes they gave us wide berths and loud toots on horns that played tunes as opposed to just sounding warnings. The packing of these trucks is a serious and impressive business. They carry vast quantities of goods with tarpaulins over top, bulging out at the sides and back, all held together by a complex system of ropes. It looks as if the whole load will shift off the side or back at any point but we have never seen this happen. Added to that, they are brightly painted and have numerous instructions and commendations on the sides, all in English. The utility of these must be questionable as I am not sure how many drivers can read English!

The first 34km passed quickly – indeed we did 21km in the first hour alone. That may not seem a great speed for those on road bikes but we are loaded with panniers and our bikes are built for endurance, not speed. Come to think of it, that description may apply to us as well.

After about 30km, we passed the most bizarre Hindu temple yet – all constructed around a Royal Enfield motorbike and with young bikers paying homage to the gods of the bike, seeking good karma for safe journeys. The Triumph Royal Enfield has a “Rolls Royce” or perhaps “Harley Davison” type status amongst the millions of motorbike riders in India. When Triumph motorbikes ceased production in the UK, someone from India bought the rights to the name “Royal Enfield” and design and began manufacturing them in India. The design must have been improved over the years, but the same shape and Easyrider style has been retained, and they are hugely popular.

The temple is said to have arisen when a young man was killed at this spot, when his Royal Enfield hit a tree. The police retrieved the bike but it is said to have mysteriously keep moving itself back to its lasting resting place, by the tree. This caused the legend which led to the Temple. It is now visited by bikers who are (slightly paradoxically) seeking good karma and safe travels on their bikes. All very strange but, in a delightful way, the merging of the ancient and the modern in a very Indian way.

We stopped for “tea” at a roadside café, just as we were due to leave the main road. The boys running the tea stall had some English and were very excited by the prospect of foreigners on bikes at their restaurant. Their attention to Bernie was a little too close! I suspect they may see foreign women in a slightly sexual and negative light, no doubt influenced by the media. They also tried to overcharge us for the tea, no doubt thinking that as foreigners we were clueless as to the cost of anything. To their surprise, we stood our ground and paid the usual rate, which they of course accepted. Even that was probably more than they charge locals, but then locals don’t make the weird request of having black tea without sugar!

The next 40km were on flat side roads with a good surface (outside the villages) that were largely unoccupied. It was a total delight. Without irrigation, the land here cannot be cultivated. But there is water and large sections were developed fields, with an unseen system of cultivation. The road more or less ended at each of villages and we cycled over hard, rough sandy paths. This had (I assume intended) the effect of slowing the (very limited) traffic to a walking pace. Small children, women and men all gave us cheery encouragement when we passed. Touring cyclists are a rarity here but maybe not as much a rarity as elsewhere.

By lunchtime we rolled into Jodhpur, a city of a million people. The old city remains intact and is dominated by the fort (which we will visit tomorrow). The network of alleys is designed to keep cool in the summer. They are so narrow that even tuktuks cannot go down most of them. But that does not prevent motorbikes doing so, often at quite high speeds. So anyone walking the narrow alleys does so at their own risk and with eyes and ears fully awake. We wound our way through the tiny alleyways to find our guest house.

In the afternoon we ambled around the market, read and I did more book chapter. Then we had a delightful vegetarian meal in the evening and bed. We had dinner with a young Dutch man who comes here to buy textiles for his online business in Holland. He has done so for 7 years and was fascinating to talk to. He expressed the view that the British are bonkers in trying to leave the EU and go it alone in the world; a view with which we agree and may even be shared by an increasing number of people in the UK. Sadly, the leadership of neither of our main political parties appear to have moved away from Brexit la-la land but we assured him that there are small signs that collective sanity may be returning.

Today was an A to B day that took us from mountain terrain to the desert. It was a chilly start at 900m, even though we had treated ourselves to a lie in and started at 8 after breakfast at the hotel. We even put gloves on – but they soon came off again.

Continue reading Day 34. Kumbalgarh to Pali. 105km. 300m climbing (i.e. not much “up”) →

This may have been our last day with any significant climbing. Most of Rajasthan is fairly flat and so this sojurn amongst the hills may have provided us with the last acquaintance with our bottom chain rings.

Continue reading Day 33: Udaipur to Kumbalgarh : 92km and 960m climbing. →

We spent the night being tossed and shaken on our sleeper train but also lulled into sleep, at least on and off through the night. The train drew in more or less on time and we held our breath that our bikes had been loaded onto the train and arrived with us. We needn’t have worried – they arrived safe and undamaged and released back into our care after David had leapt across various railway lines to the parcel office to sign his life away again.

A short ride from the station took us to a guesthouse in the heart of the tiny lanes of the old city. Feeling slightly woozy from the night we revived after having breakfast on their little roof top terrace and a hot shower. We were last here in 1988 – where we splashed out and stayed in the famous Lake Palace Hotel (featured in one of the Bond films) for 20 dollars. It is now about 600 dollars a night! We were perfectly happy this time in our little guest house which was bright and clean with a very friendly owner.

Udaipur is a beautiful city full of palaces and temples. We set out into the sunshine and strolled down to the lake then through the streets to Jagdish Temple. The streets were picturesque and atmospheric but potentially lethal as motorbikes and scooters zoomed through at tremendous speeds with little regard for pedestrians. We felt safer on the bikes!

Jagdish temple was constructed in 1651 and covered in beautiful sculptures. Inside devotees were singing loudly and playing drums in front of the black stone image of Vishnu. All very lively.

Then on to the main event of the day. The wonderful City Palace. Dating from the 15 hundreds it was added to by each subsequent Maharana of Mewar. It was full of intricate architecture, beautiful courtyards, carvings and stain glass. We took our time with an audio guide and sucked up the atmosphere.   It gave us an interesting introduction to the history of Rajasthan. We know we have a feast of palaces, temples and forts coming up over the next few weeks so decided on a tactic that we would see one place well and in detail rather than try and see every ‘site’ in a town or city.

The rest of the day was spent planning out our next 3 weeks in some detail to make sure we have a ‘tour’ that gets us to Delhi at the right time. We then treated ourselves a delicious evening meal to fortify ourselves as we get back on the bikes tomorrow.

Whilst we would liked to have carried on cycling continuously through India, we didn’t have time to cycle from Mumbai to Delhi and take in the wonders of Rajasthan. So we either did a direct route to Delhi from Mumbai by bike, missing out Rajasthan, or would have to miss out a section of cycling by a train journey and then have the time to explore the delights of the desert kingdom of palaces and forts. There are no “rules” for our trip, so we opted for the train and Rajasthan, and so had to brave the Indian Rail system – so today was mostly about trains.

We woke late having got to bed around midnight after the meal with Dan, Tania and his parents. Ambling around, doing last minute things took most of the morning and then, as we attempted to leave, we found Bernie had a puncture. After changing the tyre we went to the petrol station that the family run to say our goodbyes and profound thanks. We feel that we have gained some really good friends and are determined to ensure we stay in touch.

It was only 16km from the gas station to Bandra Terminus, so surely that was not too much of a challenge after the thousands of kilometres we have travelled. However, it was 16km ride through a heavily polluted city with frantic Indian traffic and so counted as “Istanbul II”. Those long standing readers of our blog will recall the descriptions of traffic we endured in Istanbul in 2015. This was just as crazy but with an Indian twist to it.

We tried to stick to the main roads but, however major the road, there were always multiple pedestrians cyclists, motorbikes and tuktuks coming the wrong way down the inside of the road. That meant constant swinging out into the traffic to overtake them, and the oncoming traffic did not appreciate that one little bit – so we often came to a grinding halt. Numerous traffic lights held us up, then diversions caused by the work to create a new metro (which diverted major traffic down a tiny series of side streets). It was slow going, a touch frightening at times and we counted down each kilometre.

Finally we arrived in the vicinity of the station. When I say “in the vicinity”, that suggests we had arrived but it was a case of “not quite”. Our route brought us into the area of the station, but on the wrong side of the tracks. We found what looked to be a route over the railway and found it was just that, a route over the railway. So we ended up pushing our bikes across a major rail line junction, hoping no train came (which it didn’t). There was a sign threatening a 200 rupees fine for anyone who crossed there, but no sign of any enforcement.

That brought us into a wasteland area and we followed the Garmin to reach the back of a vast station. Indian trains are perhaps 2 or 3 times longer than the longest UK train, and so the platforms seem to go on for miles. But at least we had made it.

We arrived about 2pm, about 2 hours before the train was due to leave. That time was needed to get the bikes onto the train as approved luggage. The Parcel Office was, of course, at the far end of a mile long platform, but with lots of help we found it. Then we filled in the forms, provided our passports and gave numerous details. They did not ask for the date and place of birth of our children, but it would not have surprised us if this was needed. A helpful man “sewed up” the bikes by putting packing around the handlebars so notices could be written on, and then we paid our 400 rupees and were told proudly “the bikes are now in our custody”. Slightly dubiously (but without justification) we left the bikes to the parcel office staff, and trawled off carrying our panniers to store on the train.

An hour later we were outside our carriage (having found B1 – which was of course no where near carriage B2) and, once it opened, we got on. We then got a text message to say our bikes were loaded on the train, proving once again that India is a weird mixture of old fashioned bureaucracy with new technology overlaid on top.

The journey was 18 hours (3.50pm to 9am) and passed in a largely uneventful way. We were in AC3 class – which means that the coach was air-conditioned (in fact rather chilly at times) and there were 3 bunks arranged one above the other in each compartment. We were swopped from one to another at various times at the direction of a rather officious guard but it was all fine, and we dropped off to sleep with the sounds of the train chuntering along the 760km journey towards Udaipur.

We started the day with a lovely breakfast with Dan, Kevin and Jacinta. It was lovely to be in a warm and friendly family home. Then our first aim of the day was to acquire tickets for the train to Udaipur, which only goes 3 times a week. On line tickets were full but there is a system of buying last minute tickets fro the reservation office, and also a quota for foreign tourists.

We pedalled into the Mumbai traffic to the station. It was no worse than London – especially as there are no tuktuks in the south of Mumbai and no cows, both of which are our usual hazards! At the reservation office were told that there was no quota left but the last minute ticket system opens at 10. We filled out all the forms and gave our passport details in advance then on the dot of 10 the helpful assistant frantically typed away trying to reserve tickets for us. Our credit card did not work and in that time we lost the first set of tickets but we managed to get 2 tickets on the next class down – not next to each other but he assured us we will be able to rearrange seats when we are on the train. Goal 1 achieved. Booking the bikes on will be the next goal but we can only do that at the station luggage office, and so have to allow 2 hours before the train goes.

We then cycled down to the High Court – an enormous and grand building. As we wandered round the building we passed barristers in the same garb (although did not see any wigs) and peaked into court rooms, although none seemed to be in session. I glanced into a bit bigger grand hall and something seemed to be going on. We were ushered in to stand by the side. Then all the judges gradually wandered in, mostly men but some women judges in beautiful white saris. There was a large painting of Mahatma Gandhi and then a garland was put round the picture and each judge lined up to place flowers in front, followed by what looked like other lawyers.

Back out in the corridor I asked a young female lawyer what the ceremony was and she explained it was Gandhi day and they do this once a year. We got chatting and she invited us up to the bar mess for coffee. We were plied with more food and also met a very senior lawyer who had been leader of the Bombay Counsellors. She had very firm (and adverse) views about Modi and the current political state in India and was very concerned about how all the new judge appointments were ‘friends’ of the BJP. It was a fascinating discussion. Another chance conversation that took us behind the scenes.

From the High Court next stop was the bike shop of Dan’s friend Deepak, who had confirmed he had the right size inner tubes. Traffic was getting a bit more busy but manageable with lots of traffic police blowing whistles at major junctions. Deepak had been riding BMX bikes since the last 90s and said that cycling was gradually becoming more popular in India as people became more health conscious. A really nice guy.

From the bike shop we headed to Malabar Hill – the posh end of town – with views to Chowpatty beach and Marine drive and rested a while in the ‘Hanging Gardens’. Not much was hanging and there was not much shade, although the gardens were pretty.

We then headed back to the flat and spent the afternoon sorting things out, picking up more bits of pieces for the next stages of our travels and resting. In the evening we had said that we would like to take them all out for a meal to say thanks for their amazing hospitality. We met Dan’s girlfriend, Tania, who is a part time piano teacher and part time editor of scientific papers. We were taken to a lovely restaurant with great seafood – our most delicious meal yet!

Not many pictures today (we forgot to take the camera) and we had not been to many formal sites but felt we had got a good feel of the city by cycling round and had seen some magnificent buildings. It felt much like London – but sunnier!

We woke late(ish) and were on the road by 7.30. It was quiet and flat as we ambled North from Murud. We passed a series of places where the road had been improved and then suffered the bumps and jarring as we hit sections of road with more potholes than road. We later learned that this may be down to local politics.

Continue reading Day 29: Arriving in Mumbai : 70km. →

Every day seems to be an epic day and today was no exception. We had planned a 100km day but it seemed to expand as the day went on. We first decided not to take the shorter route through the hills coming out of Dapoli.

Continue reading Day 28. Dapoli to Murud. 122km. 1200m climbing. →

So today we cycled from somewhere I had never heard of to somewhere else I had never heard of, and passed through lots of places that are equally unknown to me – and probably to the vast majority of the readers of this blog (i.e. if 10 of you read it, I would wager that the place names mean nothing to at least 9 of you). For those less familiar with Indian geography, we are north of Goa and today cycled from about 250km south of Mumbai to about 170km south of Mumbai.

Continue reading Day 27. Velanashwar to Dapoli. 80km. 1300m climbing →

After being provided with breakfast early, we were on the road as usual at 7. We saw another red globe sunset over the hills the night before and another red globe sunrise as we got going.

Continue reading Day 26. Jaitapur to Velanashwar. 108km. 1350m climbing →