Bumps, pot holes and caves....

We've left The Hotel Pavillionn after a very restful three nights. We've both been engrossed in reading The Far Pavilions and it felt right to complete my recovery there (although it was a little over budget!). The most stressful thing we had to endure was an hour long interview and photo shoot with a local reporter, who somehow heard our story and couldn't wait for the scoop of the century! We wait to hear whether it actually made the press but I'm sure you'll all find out in your next edition of the Maharashtra Times. God knows how he actually found out that we were there!

We left Kolhapur on State Highway 10, a road which we were soon to develop a love hate relationship with. It turned out that we couldn't get off the bloody thing for days. Our experience of Indian road surfaces, which we now very modestly class ourselves as world leading experts in, has been, after weeks of in-depth field work, a tiny weeny bit better than just above the mean. That is to say, at times it can be quite astoundingly good however, within metres, can deteriorate into absolute shit! For anyone who has cycled before, you will know that there is the holy trinity that can make or break your day.... tarmac (preferably as smooth as a babies bottom), wind (a gentle tail never goes a miss) and gradient (up is fine as long as there's free wheeling with purpose at the other end). State Highway 10 appeared to always fail in at least one aspect. It's hard to describe just how much a broken piece of tarmac can break your spirits but the ruts and rivets and gaping chasms, ready to gobble up your front wheel and send you arse over tit, were at times soul destroying. That's before you've had to deal with the endless hours of being incessantly jiggled and bounced around by your elbows, fingers tingling, feet numb and back in a sorry state!

At this point, like us, you may well be asking yourself, why the hell are we cycling in India of all places! But then, when the bumps and pot holes have worn down your morale to the point of selling your bike at the next chai stall and buying the first Royal Enfield you see, the road gods invariably deliver! We'd been plodding uphill all morning into a steady headwind when at last the tarmac seemed to melt into a perfect surface in the morning heat haze and as we rounded a corner, the plateau, which we were unaware we were on, dropped away in front of us. The long grass either side of the road was golden in the morning sunlight and the sandstone cliffs showed their geological past in the eroded stacks in the distance. Below us the plains disappeared into the misty haze. The joy of free wheeling around perfectly cambered bends is pretty unparalleled especially when you've worked for every metre you descend. We have a mantra as we cycle that every metre ascended is being put in the bank for free wheeling later but we're not sure how to deal with the fact that we started at sea level and are ending in the Himalaya! I think there might be a few other ups and downs before then!

The weather's changing about us too although it's not quite like a November back home if Howard's photos of snow in High Bentham are anything to go by! We chat about Tamil Nadu when we first set off nearly six weeks ago and can't quite believe we survived the soaring temperatures and unbearable nights. Now we wake and wrap up, buffs and all, to brace ourselves against the morning chill. It nearly got to below 10 degrees the other morning and I had to take drastic measures... I actually put on my coat!! The night times are beautiful and cool and the midday sun has now lost its fierce strength. This all means that the road stretching in front of us feels much more achievable.

Life on the road is a funny old thing especially when you find yourself in India. We really had no idea what to expect. The fact our tent and cooking stove have seen very little action says a lot. Although we've now discovered couch surfing which has been fantastic, most of our nights are spent in a hotch-potch of faded hotels and concrete geometric masterpieces covered in reflective glass and painted gregariously... not quite the tumbled down 'bucolic' mud huts in quaint rural villages we'd imagined. But after 43 days on the road, its funny how you start to enjoy the ambience of watching another dusty sunset from a dilapidated, grubby rooftop at the end of the day. Like the holy trinity of roads, hotels can also shine or leave you wishing you'd got your tent out. The quest for a fluffy pillow, a free Mysore sandalwood soap, two soft towels, a bed sheet that doesn't have the stains of last night's occupant and the piece de resistance, a warm shower is a never ending challenge. Needless to say, when your scrapping for every rupee, the dirty stains, rock hard pillows, mosquito infested bathrooms, Indian squatty loos and cold bucket showers don't seem so bad! I suppose we did crave the 'Indian Experience' although neither of us are sure what that really is.

Talking of rupees... some of you may have seen, amongst other slightly more worrying global news... in Kat's Dads words... 'Welcome to the world of Miss Piggy!'... the Indian Government decided overnight to scrap all 500 and 1000 rupee notes (the main denomination in circulation in the Indian economy). We're still a bit unsure as to why but we were told it was because the government was concerned about an influx of 'black money'. For us, it meant that all of our money became worthless over night. Huge cues have been a feature of every bank since, as people desperately try to exchange their now defunct currency. We can't fault our treatment as twice, while waiting with everyone else, we've been plucked from the cue by a portly armed guard, dressed in his Khaki's, rifle slung casually over his shoulder, and escorted to the front where we've been treated as important VIPs on both occasions. Leaving the banks, avoiding eye contact with the masses peacefully waiting their turn, we wondered whether a tourist, in a similar situation back home, would be treated in the same way?

As we plod on, slowly heading north, there remain those moments when simple gestures still take you by surprise. Recently, I realised that I was becoming a little quick to jump on the defensive, especially when another selfie appeared imminent but when an elderly fruit seller gave Kat an apple for free with his blessing for our journey and a man next to him then offered us a cold bottle of water, saying it is 'his greatest pleasure' it's hard not to feel humbled by their generosity and once again, reflect on how we treat strangers back home. We were treated to a new discovery in one chai stall underneath the tendrils of a baby banyan tree. A potentially ageless crumbly pastry turned into a culinary delight when dunked in a steaming cup of sweet chai! A flaky, slightly stale, strawberry pastry masterpiece. It's as much the good feeling inside from these acts of kindness as the tit bit itself.

The moment we saw our next couch surfing hostess, Pooja, we knew we had found the embodiment of that same kindness. She immediately welcomed us, two tired, smelly, strays into her lovely home. She filled us with hot milky tea, set out a homemade Gujarati curry with fresh chapatti and allowed us free reign with her washing machine, a household appliance we'd been dreaming of! She left us to take full advantage of her peaceful house as she went of to work. We were not alone. Jessie, a lovable salt and pepper terrier who's expressive bushy eyebrows encouraged constant ear tickling and Rocky, a lab-Rottweiler cross who's head was the size of a lions but who's temperament was that of a sleepy, cuddly bear, kept watch. It's hard to describe the sheer ecstasy of putting on a 60 degree synthetic wash after 6 weeks of wearing badly hand washed clothes. I had to weigh up the environmental impact of washing at such high temperatures with the grave risks associated with leaving Ed's cycling shorts unwashed for another 6 weeks. Pooja was a couch surfing pro, having hosted over 40 guests in the last 5 years. None of her references exaggerated  her loving spirit and openness. Not many people can keep us up passed our usual bedtime of 9 but we stayed up chatting late into the night with tummies full of home cooked delicacies.

The next day, we put our bikes aside and jumped in the back of a perfectly polished black and yellow autoricksaw for a rare day of sight seeing. I don't think we could ever accurately describe the 12th centuary, Tolkeinesk hilltop fort at Daulatabad, with it's twisting bat infested defensive tunnels and crumbling stone battlements, offering panoramic vistas or the 34 Ellora cave temples, hewn top to bottom from rock by 7000 labourers over 150 years, creating an array of sculptures, acoustic halls and vast monolithic Hindu, Buddhist and Jain monasteries, so we won't bother! All we can say is, it's well worth a visit if you're in the area!

We headed back to Pooja's for one last night of home comforts. Our little, slightly pathetic daily rituals of making home wherever we end up, laying out our bits and bobs, are a source of constant amusement. I think the truth is we're always looking for that little piece of home and in Pooja's motherly embrace we found it. Any person willing to wake at 5 am to blend fresh spices, fry pouri and make sweet chai to send us on our way is nothing short of a saint! That was how we left Aurangabad in the morning with a fantastic goodbye hug. The next 108km to Ajanta flew by after this warm farewell with food reserves on board. Helped by a fantastic road surface and some excellent purposeful descending. Bar the head wind, the holy trinity was nearly complete! 

Once again, we can't begin to describe Ajanta's 30 beautifully painted Buddhist caves that date back to as early as 200 B.C. They are set on the side of an idyllic horseshoe shaped cliff surrounded by lush green jungle and bright bougainvillea. Apparently a bloke called John Smith discovered them in 1850 something while out on a hunting expedition. He did little to uphold the reputation of the Raj by scrawling his initials on one of the exquisitely painted hand carved stone columns. Nowerdays, this World Heritage site is being lovingly cared for and we were lucky enough to see it first thing in the morning when there was no one else around.

We now find ourselves relaxing after a phenomenal Punjabi lunch with innumerable small stainless steel pots, overflowing with unbelievably tasty vegetables, curries and chutneys freshly prepared by the family of our next couch surfing host, Ritesh. We've put our frivolous sight seeing days behind us and are back on the road heading Northwards.

More soon, all our love

Ed and Kat

Xxx