The centre of gravity of a fully laden Bajaj auto-rickshaw lies somewhere between the roof and the roof-rack. So when you’re cruising along a country road at 60kph and swerve to avoid a cow, you’re probably going to spend a couple of seconds on two of your three wheels.
When you look up to see a truck coming at you from the opposite direction, you’ll swerve again and end up spending a couple of seconds on the other wheel.
In situations like this, there’s really only one thing left to do. Pray.
Traveling behind in air-conditioned comfort today and watching this and other events unfold brought it home to me – what we’re doing is actually a little nuts. It’s made me consider, with utmost respect, each of the ten days’ driving that remain before we trundle that final few kilometers across the Pokhara Valley in Nepal.
Nevertheless, after a breath-taking descent into Fadepur Village this evening, we’ve arrived safely and on time here at our jungle retreat, just a stone’s throw away from the ancient caves of Ajanta. Deafened by cicadas and sipping on luke-warm Fosters, we live to tell the endless tales of one more day on this utterly bizarre road-trip.
Katie spent her first day at the handlebars. In truth, she spent around five minutes, held firmly in place with a roll of the crew’s gaffer tape. And with a convincing blend of enthusiasm and reluctance, she took to the road. But by repeatedly dropping the clutch between fourth and second, and almost throwing Gordon and Shelley over her shoulders through the Perspex windscreen, she masterfully relegated herself, after just four kilometres, to a blissful afternoon of sleep, nail-buffing and random ramblings as the rickshaw clattered its way north, winding through the sublime hills, valleys and meadows of central Maharashtra.
Lunch today - Pizza at Domino’s in Aurangabad. A spread fit for a junk-food-starved traveller, which made tonight’s fluorescent-lit return to the dhal, chicken masala, chapatti and rice, all the more satisfying for the westerners on the crew.
I’m pleased to report that we’ve now furnished the rickshaw with an on-board porta-potty. A five-litre water flask “borrowed” from our hotel room in Beed this morning. It’s intended that Shelley’s hourly nature stops will be a thing of the past and the flask will be the key to our unhindered path to the Himalayas.
And to rant on unnecessarily about Shelley’s stolen camera, Gordon’s empty wallet at a petrol station, Shelley’s stolen handphone and two rear-end bumps in lunchtime traffic in Aurangabad would detract from the true spirit of our journey.
Oh, and call me naive, but as I learn more about (some) Indians and their habits, I've only just realised that that probably wasn't dog-shit on my shoes yesterday.
For a surreal glimpse of life aboard “The Shaw”, check out the video clips at www.tamrickshawrun.com
On a more reflective note, the entire crew is beginning to feel like Goa is a distant memory. But for each of us, the road to Nepal remains a long one, whether Katie’s driving, or not.
Cows may be the only things that stand in our way.
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