SUNDAY 24 AUGUST
We had a bit of a lie in for what was to be the last night in the Irivati Hotel and gird up our loins and other things for the all night bus. We packed and left the room. Reception were happy to look after our gear until we were to leave at about 5pm. We sorted out the chappals which were, as promised with the barber, who I paid.
The chappal shop
Then on to the Ravi View cafe to read the Sunday papers. The Indian Express (no relation)and the Sunday Tribute, a regional rag.
The weather was delightful and I lay on the Chaugan. Sunday is a very quiet day in Chamba. Groups of men are to be seen playing cards down alleyways, but that is about all.I have another go at photographing the old harem but with no more success.
We wander to the bus station at 4.45. Our travel agent friend is there and makes sure we get the right bus. I climb up on the roof and secure (hopefully, a worry for the next 15 hours) the rucksacks. I wrap the main straps round the roof rack and try to cover the lot with a filthy heavy weight tarpaulin.
Indian public buses sit 3 then aisle, then 2. Jonty and I sit in the space for three and try to discourage anyone from joining us. We seem fairly success. I don't really know how to beat describe this trip without going into the realms of hyperbole, but swear it is a true record and has to be experienced to be believed.
Firstly when travelling by daylight you can either delight in the glorious views of very rugged countryside or be terrified by the shear drops away from the back tyre! This is, after all the Himachal Pradesh, so what else can you expect? We make Dalhousie after about 2 hours and go back down that long road we came up a few days earlier. The darkness begins to descend and after another hour we make our first ten minute stop at a place we thought was the start of Dalhousie on the way up. We manage to buy a couple of cold beers, but the bus is pulling out before we have the change for food. We plunge oo into the night. To give you an idea, I will try to describe it in terms of words.
Noise
Constant and loud revving and hooting, driver shouting whenever we try to pass another vehicle, usually a "blow horn" lorry. Please understand most of the road is untarmacked or, at best, a thin strip, one vehicle wide with rocks and culverts on either side (when you're lucky). This makes overtaking and encountering oncoming vehicles a constant noisy and bumpy challenge.
Ride
It is like riding the old Mad Mouse big dipper at Rhyl. You have to keep two hands firmly on the rail in front of you, just to stay in your seat. Of course every ten seconds you slide from one side of the bench seat to another.
Vibration
Everything, including my teeth vibrate. All the windows set up a percussion cacophony in conflicting keys. Add to this the roof rack (is the luggage still up there?) and the doors and the sensation is mind numbing.
The driver hurls on through the night. The sensation must be a little like trying to stand up in a white water raft going down the worst rapids you can imagine for hour after hour. The bus stops at 10.30 till 10.50 at one of those isolated encampments that consist of a primitive barbecue where curries and chapatis are produced. Very basic, wash hands first, from the tank, eat with the right hand only, and wash again when you leave. The route never sleeps, but nobody has really come up with something better than a tent or a hut with a kerosene burner.
We plough on. At 12.50 am we develop a fault, but within 100m we encounter the universal sign, an upright tyre standing in another laying flat. They either changed the wheel or repaired a tyre. I don't really care which. We stop again about 2.00am at a kind of bus station. Again plenty of kerosene burners, chai, bananas and people who never sleep. Jonty and I are now joining their ranks.
This is going to be one of those experiences that will be wonderful in retrospect, but actually hell at the time.
We change drivers, I'm not optimistic this will be any better, but at least he ought not to fall asleep. The roller coaster ride goes on. At least in the dark you don't realise how close you are coming to death every ten seconds, however just maybe death would be more pleasant. People still get off and get on. Who the hell gets on a bus at 4.10 in the morning?
I start to realise that the driver hates me personally. Why else should he put on the only light just in front of my eyes? God, I'm becoming paranoid. Five becomes six and it starts to become light. Now that may might make this worse, so I'll work really hard on keeping my eyes shut. This has the dual benefit of discouraging people from sharing the seat and not seeing which chasm we will plunge down or even which Punjabi lorry we will have a head on crash with.
FACT In India there are 155 road deaths daily. About 56,000 or so a year. Compared with the USA with 20× the number of vehicles where they "only" manage 43,000 fatalities per year.
In the light we approach Shimla. My protected seat has become occupied by a thin Indian who does not speak. Mind you this may be because I am still pretending to sleep.
Now comes the problem of disembarkation. I have read about this, so I am prepared. Instantly touts and "coolies" will appear to unload the roof luggage and then conduct you to a hotel of their choice and loosen your wallet into the bargain. I climb onto the roof and grab both fully laden rucksacks, while thrusting the touts away. It is really quite tricky descending the ladder with both sacks, but with a tout in close pursuit. We dive into a chai shop, which is very welcome, to throw off our tail, but with no success. He pursues us all the way to our hotel. This is definitely not the one mentioned in our guide book. I book us in anyway. Reception enquires "Is this coolie with you?" "Most definitely not" . He evaporates. I find we have booked into the worst hotel imaginable. No running water, filthy and no windows. We crash out for a couple of hours before upgrading the room to one that at least has a window. No chance of a wash. Toilet activities require the demand of a bucket of water. No sheets, just filthy duvets. Sleeping bag out tonight. Although it is now well into Monday, I will stop writing under Sunday and have another go at Monday in Shimla. When you're awake all night, one day rolls into another.
MONDAY 24 AUGUST
The Father of the Nation now replaces the Empress of India.
We start Monday again about 11.30 and have a walk round Shimla. This was, of course, the old "Summer Capital" when the British ran the country from the top of this mountain, altitude 2130m. It consists of a crescent shaped ridge which runs east to west with very steep slopes on the north and south sides. We are staying on the south slope. We walked N.W. till we came to a lift that took us up to the lower Mall. This we followed up due east until we came to the Mall proper. The British banned all vehicles and Indians from the Mall until World War II. We only saw a handful of Westerners. There were many touches of fading Raj. The imposing presence of the Amateur Dramatic Club (members only) founded in 1837 with its attendant Gaiety Theatre.
Jonty, of course, manages to find the only bar/restaurant in town, outside the 3 star Hotels, I guess. We make a note to have our evening meal there. In the afternoon we walk around the town. It really is becoming something of a slum on the hill. Most of the older buildings are deteriorating rapidly.
Shimla, with the Mall to the right.
However another of Shimla's boasts is the toy railway, which is a journey of 96 km down the mountains to Kalka where where you can link up with the broad gauge network. We walk down the tracks to the main station to book our tickets. I had read about this in the LP guide and it can be quite a complex, with the inevitable form filling before you even join the queue. I eventually get to the front of the computer reservation window and run into a couple of snags.
No first class on the train we plan to take. No matter the chair class will do.
No first class left on the Kalka to New Delhi "Hymalayan Queen" Express. So I have to book II s ( that is softish not the hard) for our onwards journey of 303 km.
However I buy the tickets for a total of Rs462 for the two. Not bad, I suppose.
Back to the Hotel then out for our evening meal. I try to find a short cut up the hill and we pass through the extremely colourful and aromatic bazaars that follow the footpaths on the south slope. Amazing, the sounds, smells and sights of India.
We have a good meal and make our way somewhat precariously back to the worst hotel in India.
TUESDAY 25 AUGUST
Today will be almost entirely devoted to railway travel. We are due to leave Shimla North Extention at 10.15 and arrive in Kalka at 16.20. Departing at 16.55 and hopefully arriving at New Delhi Station at 22.30.
Departure from Shimla
So the "toy train" is really fun as it slowly winds its way down the hills. It is a very dramatic and scenic route, but the road is now much quicker and cheaper.
We think about this journey in its heyday in the C19 when everything came up and down on it. It is single track so we have to wait at a couple of stations to "pass the key". One of those is Chail. Once the summer capital of the princely state of Patalia. The Palace is now a luxury hotel and at 2250m boasts the highest cricket pitch in the world! Being an Indian train the windows and doors are wide open and passengers frequently dismount and walk when the train is delayed, only to rejoin it when the train gets under way again.
The train loops back on itself. At one stage we can see three lines, one below an other.
We eventually arrive in Kalka and make for the broad gauge, very lengthy train for Delhi. Jonty waiting patiently for the off.
When you have a reservation, you find a computer printout pasted to the carriage near the entrance and, lo and behold we find Niger and Jon Duce (sic) amongst the list. At this stage, the train is not busy, so we select window seats instead. After about 20 minutes we we reach Chandigarh and the train fills up in an instant. The commercial activities on the station are frenetic. People are touting all sorts of things to eat and drink. They ball out their wares eg chai, chai, chai, chai etc. It's the same at all the larger stops. Many salesmen ride the train, often kids and they are up and down the carriages selling. I have some excellent soup.
We eventually arrive at New Delhi station. There are three waves of people who you try to avoid. Firstly the porters, who are mostly unofficial, then the taxi touts and finally the hotel touts. I have already planned to stay at the Hotel Namaskar which is about 300 yards walk away from the station. Head down determination is required to avoid all the "helpful people". We make it and book in at 11pm to what is a famous hotel for backpackers (thanks to LP guide again).We have to take the last room available though it is for four people. It costs Rs400 but was clean and with free buckets of hot water. I begin to psych myself for a the shower I have been waiting for, for 54 hours, but first the beer. The hotel doesn't serve, of course, but he has a friend at the Diamond Cafe who will supply us at a decent rate if we are quick. It closes at midnight. The place turns out to be another LP recommendation and many independent travellers must have passed through these portals. So we take the beer back to the room, shower, a drink and so, somewhat exhausted, to bed, but not before completing this journal.
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