June 17th, 2013

What a whirlwind the past ten days have been. They’ve been the most challenging days of the trip, but also the most rewarding. They have also been the most delicious days of the trip, as this is India, and I love Indian food.  

In the blink of an eye, I’ve had the bike crated and shipped from Thailand to New Delhi, then laboriously cleared through Indian customs, then reassembled, then laboriously pushed, towed, and parked at a police station after it broke down at midnight, just 200 meters outside of the customs yard, which closes its gates at midnight. I spent the following day arranging a “tow-truck”, and sat astride my bike as it traveled its first 40km in India in the back of a three-wheeled mini-truck.

I was supposed to be in New Delhi for three days, but ended up staying 8 days. I’ve been back and forth across New Delhi more times than I would like to count. I’ve been misinformed at least 10,000 times. I sweated through all of my clothes numerous times in the 100+ degree humid heat, and I never had time to do laundry. I worried over the bike, and questioned the sanity of this trip. I chased down rare parts, and learned all about electrical relays (I may even be able to install a fuel pump now). I relentlessly attacked the street food in New Delhi, and it has yet to bite back. Mostly, I have been helped by many. People have lent me their time, support, and resources with such regularity and sincerity that I’m at a loss to put it into words.    

Two customs officials took pity on me, and towards the end of my second day of getting stamps, signatures, and forms in duplicate and triplicate, were as helpful as the bureaucracy allowed them to be. The guys in the cargo yard were a blessing. An army of workers was asked to help me put the bike back together. They worked passed quitting time. They unexpectedly brought me much needed food and water, as I hadn't a chance to get any all day. They offered me their phone numbers, and told me to call them if anything went wrong. Things went wrong almost immediately, but help swooped in from another Indian who spent two hours with me after midnight. He helped me arrange getting the bike to a nearby police station. The mechanic was dedicated to my cause as well. He worked some late nights, and didn’t mind having me watch him like a hawk, asking him silly questions about the work he was doing. Each day, I was allowed to extend my stay with my host. Girish was helpful at every turn, and didn’t mind my bitching at the end of each problematic day. His wise an even tempered manner was most helpful.

Somehow, everything that needed to get done got done. I rode out of New Delhi at 4 a.m. with a group of 9 other Indian youths I met hanging around the mechanic shop. From the very first moment we met, they took me in, and they shared in my worries. They also helped to get the bike fixed faster so that I could join them. We rode for 12 hours, and had a wonderful night in the mountains of Himachal Pradesh, 500Km away from the noise, pollution, and heat of New Delhi. They were all young, unmarried, and highly educated. Over a bonfire, we exchanged insights into how our different cultures shaped who we were. We exchanged a bottle of whiskey, and a few laughs as well.

The following day, we parted ways and I spent the afternoon advancing into the Himalayan mountain range. I awoke today at 4:30am, and continued to wind northward at dawn. At breakfast, I caught my first glimpse of snow covered peaks. By dinner, I was surrounded by them.

I made it to the (overly)touristic town of Manali. I plan to get some supplies here and continue on towards Leh on the 22^nd. It’s a tough route. The road is only open for 4 or 5 months of the year, and the pavement is never in good shape. Landslides are common, closiong critical passes for days at a time. Potholes and mud are to be expected, as is the disappearance of what most would say qualifies as a road for miles at a stretch.

I didn’t have a clue what I was getting into when I landed in New Delhi. I haven’t a clue how this ride up to Leh will shake out, but I remain optimistic. During my first week in New Delhi, everything that could go wrong did go wrong. I lost my temper only once, and that was in private. I didn’t whine too much, or for two long, either. It’s easier for the mind to realize a broad perspective when the gravity of life sleeps in the streets, begs though the window, and lingers on the aged faces of people who've clearly led arduous and tedious lives.

It’s been a wild ten days filled with ups and down, problems, and the kind people who helped me solve them. Each day was a story; a complete cycle of problem, conflict, and resolution. There were innumerable interesting tidbits along the way. However, it was also a go, go, go time. I never had time to write anything down. However, I’ve got myself set up at a decent place with great food and a spectacular view. I hope I can remember the important parts: the people, and the stories we created together.