INTO THE VALLEY OF HUGE RODE THE TWO RIDERS

Srinagar to Leh. Big valley country.

Listening to ROCKY MOUNTAIN WAY Joe Walsh and Barnstorm 

1973. OK, off the coolest named album of all-time....

THE SMOKER YOU DRINK THE PLAYER YOU GET

Walsh uses a thingo called a Talk Box to get the weird vocal 

sound and apparently wrote the words while mowing his lawn!

Click and play and enjoy a truly "thick" guitar sound!

Hmm,, a couple of doors up from my cheapy first hotel in Srinagar

Hmm, think they're both still there... can't feel any scars.

 If they knocked one off they're good at it.

FEELING THE SERENITY IN SRINAGAR

I'm mashing my way through the now accustomed crazy traffic on the way to the Queens Palace House Boat in Srinagar where Brian is staying.  I've botched the GPS input and have managed to make a seven kilometre trip into thirty kilometre one. Oh dear, at least it's a balmy twenty eight degrees and quite pleasant.  A heavy shower of rain an hour before has turned the potholes into mini oceans of garbage and crap and I desperately duck and weave though markets and honking vehicles trying not to get showered in their contents. In his email to me Brian (a man meagre with his words on media) has described the place as "it's good" which converted to Deano speak should mean it's " !@#bloody awesome!"

And it is!

So it's not a boat... it kinda looks like a boat, it's next to a boat, when you look out the front you see water like a boat, but, it's not a boat. Its a house hostelly sort of  thing. You enter through some huge green iron gates, ride down a track past a row of houses, all owned by various members of the same family, park up next to a little canal thing, cross a rickety wooden gangplank, and step inside. To your left is a row of bedrooms, recently renovated, and to your right is a dining toom and a sitting room, both chock full with traditional carpets and hand carved wooden furniture, including the ceiling (!), all done by the family grandfather. The piece de resistance (at last! I've managed to slot that word in!) though, is the wooden front verandah. Just a simple wooden rickety structure with a couple of beaten up plastic chairs, looking out onto what must be one the loveliest scenes in the world. 

No really!

 Before you is a beautiful deeply layered vista.

 A beautiful painting where all the colours blend from one to another with no contrasts to disturb or distract the eye from the whole.

  Dark mystical mountains, providing promise of a hulking jagged framework, reach down to a screen of distant Poplars, towering over smoke veiled still backwaters. Fishermen silently glide on simple rafts, across an oily liquid mirror surface, spears raised, seeking complacent finned prey. A hazel green, giant lilly carpeted foreground buzzes with life. Seemingly weightless water hens tiptoe from leaf to leaf, past small kingfishers keeping silent sentinel on sunken posts, and busy honey eaters happily swing off  beautiful pink flower stalks, much too thin for their weight.

 After three days riding about in a choking 

lava filled

concrete mixer we are gobsmacked. 

Yes Brian you're right... "it's good"

Almost a boat but better!

Hmm, what's through there... paradise?

Yep that'll do!

Maybe lay on handcrafted couch and do 

your blog sir?

That's a real houseboat on he left

you know, bobs up and down and leaks.

Do be do be do... sitting this far forward

lets me se the fish right... an inch more and I can swim with them!

Out and about in Srinagar

We are looked after royally for four nights by Rafiq and his son Aamir with Rafiqs wife doing the cooking for us. I have contracted a monster cold and am a dripping sniffing mess. Brian zooms about the city like a fly in a bottle on foot (he truly has endless curiosity) while I bang out the last blog post despite constant power cuts which drive Rafiq crazy. I'm really struggling with no medication but we have to check out this jewel of Kashmir, so we hook up Aamirs taxi driving friend and do a tour of the city. The central attraction is of course the Dal Lake with it's hundreds of houseboats and smaller Shikara tourist boats. (Brian returns the next day and has a shot on a Shikara and even has a paddle.) It's a warm clear day as we do a lap of the lake and move onto some magnificent monasteries and city gardens overlooking the city. A great day. There is a huge Indian army presence here, some say a million troops, keeping an eye on neighbour Pakistan and maybe Kashmir independence stuff, who knows. They are everywhere on street corners and bridges etc, all heavily armed, but seemed helpful happy and friendly. What we saw was a friendly attractive city full of warm locals with attractions just begging for tourists. 

There is a huge red "do not travel" on our Australian Smart Traveller site for Jammu and Kashmir which for us anyway, just doesn't add up,

I've certainly visited hairier places!

Jama Masjid Mosque

These uprights are solid pine.

My knees have a similar effect the world over.

These guys know how to handle them.

Put it on Deano!

Lovely. (Code for I can't remember where this is)

The front of the Mosque.

Real house boats that float and bob...

 and leak and creak!

Sign says it all.

The lake is surrounded by mountains in 

a totally idyllic setting.

Worse places for wedding shots huh.

Brian smashing out the photos.

Shankaracharya Hindu Temple.

The sights from the top were to die for 

and the stairs up to it to die on!

Listening to 

"THE GOOD THE BAD AND THE UGLY  MAIN THEME"

Written by Ennio Moricone for the spaghetti western

The Good the Bad and the Ugly 

in 1966 with none other than Clint Eastwood. 

This is what I'm playing in my head when I hit the mountains... oh yeah

 DA NA NA DAAA... DA NA DA

 DA NA NA DAAA... DA NA NA DAAA

Arrr them were the days...

shootin 'n riding 'n spitting 'n fighting 

'n sweating 'n cussing 'n farting... 

oops no sorry, that last one was from Blazing Saddles!

BIG MOUNTAIN TIME

It's time to hit the mountains. Why we came really. Brian, a keen fisherman, has found some kindred spirits in Aamir and Rafiq. Hours are spent in deep discussion over this three piece rod or that fly thingo blah blah... 

...right, time to go!

We're heading to Kargil first, about two hundred kilometres away, and plan is to stay there a day or two to help acclimatize for high altitude bit by bit. The day promises a great ride in perfect weather although the traffic from Srinagar towards Sonamarg is still heavy. There's a lot of Indian army presence everywhere along the way and the road is infested with groups of fellow motorcyclists, lumbering fuel tankers, and crazy horn blaring mental cases in mega colourful trucks. I swear that if you fail your driving test by a large enough percentage in India, you instantly win the keys to one of these death machines.  There's a pass about halfway along called  Zoji La which rises to about 3500 metres. The altitude doesn't bother us so much as the ultra sharp edged pavers set into the road (maybe for snow conditions) which pummel the crap out of us as we negotiate crazy dust, rocks, hairpins and traffic.

 The scenery is our first taste of the truly huge, but the pummeling for the first two thirds of the trip keeps our concentration glued to perilous road conditions. 

There is new roadworks and tunnels going on everywhere along maybe for military purposes. Every glance down into the steep valleys below would see some sort of mysterious major works going on in the most inhospitable environments. Finally the last fifty kilometres into Kargil the traffic thins out, the road improves, and we cruise in to town to the Hotel Zojila Residency which looks erm, a little above our pay scale. Hmm 2200 Rupees is a bargain, and it is.... buuuut third floor with no lifts. Aaaargh.Six flights of stairs at 2800 metres and with my cold I'm a wheezing mess. Brian of course, quite the athlete, bounds on up and I'm left trailing along behind a young porter who zooms up carry all our luggage at once!

Kargil...a top little spot.

Marianne and I were addicted to You Tube videos about caravanning for a while. There was one travelling mob that always finished up with something like "Yeh, top little spot that one". We would waste a whole fifteen minutes of our lives just waiting for them to drop it and to crack up laughing. 

Everywhere on earth seemed to be a "top little spot". 

Maybe it is... but some are topper than others!

Kargil is a top little spot. A curious blend of old culture mixing in with just enough modern technology to seemingly keep everyone happy. With a couple of days to spare we wandered abut the crazy illogical street layout, poked our noses into ancient shops, ate at dodgy tiny restaurants with the best food (the hotel restaurant was average and expensive) and marvelled at the way life rolled out every day. Take away the modern clothing and motorised vehicles and we might be back a hundred years. Whilst back at the houseboat in Srinagar, we'd met a couple of Czech travellers who described an ancient village they'd visited. 

Bit of people watching on the main drag.

Cop the banner!

The advantage of lots of staff is there's always someone

to talk to when it's quiet! Everywhere has lots of hangers on.

This humungous river runs right through town and the 

noise sounds like an air conditioner going all night...

placebo heating and cooling?

This tour group rolled up all on the model bike that I was supposed 

to have hired. Hmmm.... just saying.

Arty door shot.

On a whim we grab a local taxi, probably pay 

him too much, and zoom off to see the village for ourselves.

What followed was the hairiest ride in a car I've had since Ron and I got a ride to hospital with a totally stoned driver in Russia. We pile in a tiny Suzuki van, resplendent with bright green fake grass as a dash mat, and comfy red crocheted mats on the seats in the back, and zoom off. Hmm, the driver has put his seat belt on... a rare thing in these parts... aaaand we don't have any. Oh oh. We fly upwards onto what looks like a brand new road, but is super super narrow. Think a tiny strip of bitumen, a  gocart sized tiny strip maybe. For the next eleven kilometres we are treated to one of the greatest taxi rides ever. The road rises and rises, hairpin after hairpin, as the little Suzuki strains its guts out and the driver gives us a fine lesson in car control. The road runs a metre in from cliffs thousands of metres down, with barriers a rarity. Some of the hairier places are marked by a pile of rocks running along the edge... jeez that's gonna help. Peering out the side window I can see nothing but a river and village waaaaay below. My mind clicks through scenarios of what might happen if a wheel goes over the side or if we get tapped over by a truck on a corner... arrrm naah best not think about it!

Hunderman Village 

So Hunderman village was in India, or Kargil. Then the Poms divided up India in 1947 and it became Pakistani. Then in 1971 the Indian and Pakistanis have a stoush and the village becomes Indian. By now the villagers had legged it both ways and the village is left virtually uninhabited. Another stoush happened nearby in 1999 between Pakistan and India and that's about it... for now. On the way up the driver pointed out military posts way way up on the ridges watching the entire area. The ancient village remains pretty much untouched since 1971 and is now a museum run by one old guy who lives out there. I found it fascinating. There's the usual collection of old pots and crap but also a bunch of unspent mortar shells (!), 303 bullets, and even an old muzzle loading rifle found lying around. Anyway, check the pics. 

When was the last time you got a show 

ride on the way to a museum!

So you insert yourself into one of these!

Zoom onto the local staircase gocart track!

Stop halfway to see how far down you're gonna roll if it... 

...erm goes wrong!

Don't look out the side window...

Maybe just admire the fake lawn dash cover!

Arrive in Hunderman and head inside bumping 

your head at every possible occasion.

Admire the unspent mortar bombs inside.... hmmm

Brian showing how to get the pasta just right.

And back down the mountain frying the tiny brake drums as we go!

ONE FOR THE GREAT RIDE LIST

Kargil to Leh

Ok, you'll often hear me get excited and here we go again. Brian and I spend a couple of pleasant days in Kargil acclimatising a little at 2800 metres, and now it's time to head to Leh. Leh is kinda the destination we were hoping for if all went well, and, it's going well... in an Indian kind of way. So far, despite some of the most memorable moments of my travels, the actual rides have been a bit of a grind. 

Trucks, animals, roadworks etc you name it.

 You cannot get a minute to relax without some new obstacle flying straight at you requiring dodging, braking, ducking, weaving, skidding or unscheduled off road riding. Sigh.

Till now!

We rise and pack early and zoom out into perfect crisp cool conditions. We follow the valley along to the left of the river between towering mountains, sweeping through small villages, past gleaming Buddha statues and monasteries, with very little traffic to impede our progress. The villages are quite green with ever present poplars everywhere and seem a little more affluent than what we've passed through so far in this trip. Many small restaurants tempt but the riding is so easy and fun we relax and enjoy the scenery. The road could have been designed by a motorcyclist as the road surface is pretty much perfect and the curves are to die for.  All trucks are easily dispatched anywhere anytime as they crawl along almost at walking pace on the steeper parts.  There are two passes along the way Namika La, at 3700 metres and Fotu La, at 4108 metres. Both climb up and up and up revealing a panorama  of gigantic naked mountains of different shapes and textures. I'm sorry, but I do not have the skill to photograph such grandeur.

The mighty shapes and colours are just mind boggling. 

For once we get time to take it all in and it's breathtaking.

 

Namika Pass at 3700 metres.

Parked up at the pass.

You just can't photograph it... 

The different colour Indus and Zanskar rivers where they join.

Lovely place for a chai and an omelette.

The view from the Hotel Swastika... 

...which was actually a cafe, no drinking or sleeping here!

I know it means something different here, but...

Brian has a flash camera and knows how to use it...

two up on me!

Along the valley floor it's quite cool and green. 

We stop at both passes and also at the confluence of Indus and Zanskar rivers. At all these stops we join many holidaying Indians, many on motorcycles enjoying the view. The Indus and Zanskar rivers both flow out of the Himalayas, one river blue and one green. The join together in the Nimmu area and the view from the road high above is wonderful. For lunch we stop at the Swastika (good luck in Hindu apparently) restaurant high above an ancient village (Ok I can't remember where it was!) . We sit outside on crappy plastic furniture, knocking over yummy omelettes, ancient village with Disney like monastery in the distance, watching trucks negotiate a super tight downhill hairpin before smoking their brakes on the run downhill all the way to the village. For days I have been abusing trucks for hogging the road on curves, often forcing us off into the dirt. Bastards. Here I learn that on the trucks with six rear wheels, the leading two are the only ones that steer, and therefore, they cannot actually get round the tighter curves without blocking both lanes... 

Mongrels

Sooo... 

these guys, drive these roads daily, in vehicles that cannot possibly get round a lot of the corners, without crossing over to the wrong side and blocking the road.... Yikes!

SMALL

Here I ride, an insignificant spec.,

humbled and enthralled.

Mountains river valleys,

distant ridges that rise and fall.

Epically stupendous larger than huge,

majestically serene and grandiose.

Just a grain of sand a tiny bug,

in a panoramic masterpiece.

Indescribable calls the rules here,

verbal explanation has no call.

I ride my motorcycle through immensity,

joyfully powerless and glad to be small.

Dean

REALITY CHECK

I'm writing this from a two star hotel in Leh in my last stinky tshirt and socks. It's been unseasonably hot everywhere here... and it's a grind. We've brought bags full of cold weather clothes basically for nothing as the hot weather here just runs on and on. Aaand to be honest, the food up here in the north is pretty ordinary, and although our hotel includes free dinner and breakfast, we've been skipping the dinner and going into town in search of flavour, any flavour! Brian has had the first dose of the shits which he got over pretty quick and I'm waiting my turn sometime soon I guess. He's a bit more of a culture curiosity type than me and is in overload in these parts. As I write this it's been two weeks already (!) and we've done and seen soooo much. India is tiring though... dam tiring, particularly in the heat and high altitude. You have to watch and see one hundred percent of the time. At the hotel here they constantly turn the power off, so I have to ask to have it turned back on, or the internet's turned off, so I have to ask to have it turned back on, and the hot water is total hit or miss so I have to fiddle with it... etc etc. The people are polite and curious but it's a weird culture... pushing in when in line waiting (which I despise) to be served is almost revered... huh?  No worries, just cruise on in, politely say excuse me, and then stand right in front... nooo sorry!

Anyways it is what it is. So, two weeks to go to do some stuff round Leh, and then begin to head back down to Delhi and hopefully the Taj Mahal... 

it's actually going to plan... sorta!

NEXT BLOG PANGONG LAKE AND HIGH PASSES AROUND LEH BEFORE HEADING SOUTH!

Heaps of thanks for the comments from the last Blog.

Keep em coming as we truly appreciate hearing from you!

Just click on the post a comment bit below and you're off.

LEARNING TO DELHI DANCE

 

Delhi to Srinagar... hot work!

Listening to LE FREAK bY Chic 1978 

It's 1978...

Deano's got hair, and Marianne's has a lapse of judgement in boyfriends.  

THE REST IS HISTORY!

Yes folks, smash this one on, spin that knob up to eleven, and suddenly you're back at SAM's disco at the Redlegs Club greasing up the floor! 

Nile Rogers awesome funk rhythm on the Stratocaster

helps propel this classic disco number to seven million 

sales and number one on the Billboard Hot 100

Welcome to Delhi.

It's ten pm, still thirty degrees, and there's a kinda muggy thickness to the air. Brian and I are finally finished our eighteen hour flight from Oz and are now locked inside a tiny Suzuki taxi van wizzing along Delhi's shadowy main inner roads hopefully  towards our hotel. 

The driver looks pretty crook...

 actually, he looks like shit!

He mops away at his dripping face with a giant grimy rag and hawks and gurgles while deftly splitting lanes, tailgating and blowing his horn at all the other lane splitters, tailgaters and horn blowers who dare share our road. Suddenly he kinda chokes, attacks the window winder, and hawks a giant oyster out the side window into the shadowy darkness.

  I'm thinking its kinda funny, you know, different cultures and all, 

who am I to judge? Maybe this is normal...

 Suddenly, he pulls up in the middle of the road, throws the door open and hawks  an even  bigger one out onto the steaming bitumen and sits there with his head down moaning for a minute or so... gulp... I'm not touching him if keels over. Fortunately he comes good and is back on the job mopping at his dial while  winning the Delhi Gran Prix. We zoom around the edge of some sort of deep dark park thing in the middle of the city when once again  he hits the brakes, pulls up, and smashes on the hazards while  blocking the outside lane. He bounds out of the van and disappears into the darkness behind a huge tree. 

Brian and I look at each other... 

he must be taking a leak right... 

but... he's gone ages! 

 When he finally returns he opens the passenger door, grabs an ancient used water bottle off the floor, and pours something all  over his hands. Another one nostril oyster on the road, and he's driving off with dripping hands and renewed gusto... eek. 

Yeah nah buuut, now he's lost, aaaaargh.

Aaaand I have to show him how to get there on my phone. I try to show him without him touching it but he grabs it for a sec to steady it and now I'm sure we're gonna die of covid or something before we even get started... yech! We finally get to the hotel where he demonstrates remarkable speed for a sick person, and  bounds round the back of the van first man handling our bags and handing them to us... 

NOOOO.... 

Hey Brian... yes mate...

 did ya bring lots of hand sanitizer?

Can you see where we're going Brian? 

Nope... maybe lucky huh!

LEARNING TO DELHI DANCE

Ok we've done the research, we know it's hot...

but... cripes!

It's Friday morning 9.30, its mid thirties heat and we are sweating big time!

 Brian and I are stuffed into a Tuk Tuk (motorised rickshaw?) threading our way through Delhi traffic to Tony Bike Centre to grab our bikes. We are laughing our heads off as the extra large size driver (curiously not sweating) deftly taktaktaks through the traffic mayhem practising admirable collision avoidance on every side. God it's hot. On arrival at tennish we wait for the staff to arrive before being ushered upstairs by a handsome young fellow to complete the mountain of paperwork. We knock over some delicious chai as we pretend to read and understand agreements of if this or that  happens and happily sign our lives away a dozen times. Then it's off a block away on foot to inspect the bikes. 

Oh oh.... erm... the bike I've signed up for is a Scram, 

not quite an Enfield Himalayan as ordered. Kinda close, mostly the same, but not as adventurous and kinda suits short people and city riding...  aaargh! Sigh... I'm still a bit wrecked from the flight and the heat and it's not what I've ordered so I have a bit of a whinge. There's nothing else available and the local lads are scratching their heads and eventually bring in the big boss Rajesh to sort it. Rajesh is a total gentleman and I can see he really wants to help and he even offers to bang a bigger front wheel in (!) and change other stuff 

buuuut, I surrender, sigh, looks like

its the Scram for me!

So this is my Scram... and below is what I kinda

had in mind. Ah well, as the charming Mala said

"maybe someone up above has a different plan for me"

OK, she is way too nice to doubt!

Thankyou someone up above... I think!

We go back to the main office and meet the charming Mala,

 who supplies us with a pile of valuable tips on staying alive and places to stay. 

Then it's off to grab some bags nearby aaand then... it's time to ride back to the hotel. The hotel is only a couple of K's away and with no small trepidation we mount up and pour into the never ending flow of Delhi traffic.

What a hoot!

So imagine you can ride anyhow you'd like to on the road. If there's a gap, or even half a gap, just zoom on in there, if someone cuts you up or you cut someone up who cares, just take a breath smile and move on. Horn usage every few seconds is mandatory, not cos you're angry, just hey I'm here champ and I'm goin round, under or over you! Why waste time waiting at traffic lights if nobody is coming, just keep on going! Of course the fact you're encased in a horn blowing, smoke and heat belching, weaving and braking, river of scooters, cows, trucks, bicycles, cars, tuk tuks,  dogs, tricycles, pedestrians and the odd horse and cart does erm,

lift you're concentration level a little... actually, 

it's mental!

Brian outside the hotel ready to go...

He's super organised and a super early riser!

Sooo, I'm not gonna even enter that race!

So mate our first meal in India... yummy

...and still behaving itself inside!

View out the window on the first night.

Drinks, chips, hardware, or what about a new dog sir.

Mate he won't fit in my bag... oh yes he will, he's a very clever dog!

Yeah nah all good.

There's a gap past the white car, go for it!

Let's review this, its 38 in the shade and it's a crap road.

Why did we come here again?

Wow over 38 outside and only 37 in here with the fans! 

Winner!

THE HEAT IS ON

The next morning we're up early keen to get out of Delhi. It's already mid thirties and we're dripping wet before we start. I have to say the ride out of central Delhi blew my mind. Of course the traffic was crazy, it's always crazy, but the stuff of life going on in the packed streets we rode through was mind boggling. Markets, food stalls, garbage, cows, non stop horn blowing, bullocks with or without carts, rickshaws, people selling stuff, people carrying stuff, people sitting anywhere, soldiers, beggars, more garbage, roads totally torn up with pot holes and mud, police, sewage smells, spice smells, sweat smells, food smells... bloody amazing! 

It's like being in a movie where the director yells action and the whole scenery comes alive around you. Just the best best memory, which is kinda fortunate as it was impossible to photograph while swimming midstream!

Hmm that front tyre looks tastier than the

 garbage I've been munching on!

Do not enter one of these and expect it to stop or have brakes!

This huge stationary engine thing thumps away grinding up cane and makes juice. Stationary engine and sweet stuff, I want one!

All trucks have this on the tail gate. Mashing the horn button 

just doesn't have the same psychological effect 

when they ask politely for it!

Just Hot.

Once we cleared Delhi it just got hotter and hotter and the scenery was pretty  ordinary. The traffic on the open road is a weird mix of super slow tractors, trucks, buses, and tiny cars, playing a dangerous game of open road Tetris  with families in late model SUV's full of luggage and kids going way too fast carving everything in their path. When I say carving I mean within inches at high speed. Yikes! There's no cops or speed limits that I could tell, just everyone sets their own pace. As for us, well, eighty - ninety kph  seems to be sweet and almost safe. 

It's not a pleasant ride. 

The scenery is scorchingly ordinary with hundreds and hundreds of kilometres of what we might perceive to be struggle street, bathed in a steaming blue smokey haze. We eat at roadside open tin shed restaurants, vaguely cooled by ridiculously noisy fan blowers which threaten to blow our food right off the table. We spend the first night in a hotel on the highway just out of Chandigarh and move on to Pathankot the next night. The hotels are kinda ordinary but hey, we only need somewhere to sleep, maybe some air-conditioning, and a shower. There's no hot water at either hotel but the water coming out of the tap at air temperature is almost warm enough anyway. The relief from the heat is fleeting as each morning we are yet again bathed in sweat packing our bikes before we leave.

Random night time shots of people at work.

As soon as it's dark and the temperature drops 

a few degrees people get stuck in.

Hold my bag for me will ya mate.

Hmm I wonder if the fan is hooked up!

Lost and Found

Day three on the road and it's time to try and make Srinagar and some cooler temperatures. It's a longer ride but we set out early hoping to arrive mid afternoon. Once again we are ground down into a ridiculous melange of  heat traffic and road works. It's dog eat dog getting through the crowded scrum of  lumbering trucks buses and cars. We get separated and lose blue tooth connection. Aaaargh. I wait forty five minutes in the heat but no Brian. I whip out the !@#kin mobile phone with a new Indian sim card which we purchased at the airport aaaand... no service! Crap! Seems we had crossed into the state of Jammu and in that state and Kashmir prepaid cards are shut down for I imagine security stuff. 

I'm taking the welder to my pushy as soon as I get home. 

Should get all my empties up to the depot and spend the 

measly five bucks on a ten dollar pint on the way home!

Yeh yeh stare at me I understand. Ya not gonna

see skinny legs this white too often. 

So... what to do. 

Well, Brian's my mate and what if he's had an accident. 

I remount and dive back into the dust and heat and ride most of the way back, aaaaand nothing, hmm. Well, what to do. I zoom back through the shit and get back on route and zoom onto the monkey road behind Jammu. What a great road, finally! I zoom through some great scenery and past numerous groups of monkeys but, as I'm still figuring out how to contact Brian, I don't get any photos. I stop at a roadside restaurant, beg some Wi-Fi and wait another hour while I email him to say I'm finally heading towards Srinagar although by now it's getting latish. The road from Jammu us to to Srinagar runs up the NH44 highway through some absolutely spectacular mountain scenery to Kashmir... but! The government is building some sort of monster highway through the mountains, maybe for military purposes, and most of the road is a nonstop winding obstacle course of dust and crawling trucks. Hours and hours were spent in first and second gear, blind passing in dangerous situations, and just non stop fine dust.

 I pass through crazy long tunnels under mountains, one I think maybe nine kilometres long and one so full of dust that visibility was maybe ten to twenty metres... so dangerous! 

My clutch hand aches from hours of clutch slipping and crawling, my back and luggage are constantly slammed by giant unseen potholes and my eyes are a red streaming mess from dust and searching for the next tiny passing opportunity. It begins to get dark and I stop at a village where most of the people appear Islamic and look for a hotel with no success. With maybe eighty kilometres to go I grab a half warm Coke from a roadside vendor, slam it down, burp loud enough to set off a land slide, and set off in the dark to Srinagar. The last part of road is a lot better  but is littered with slow and immobile vehicles with no lights making for a crazy unlit obstacle course.  I finally roll into town totally filthy with bulging eyes aching muscles and a fresh coat of nocturnal bugs. That night I stay in a cheap hotel on the edge of town at 1500 rupee ($30au), use all their hot water, and collapse for the night on the worst bed ever.

 Brian has emailed back - he's safe and also in Srinagar! 

All good but what a day!

More random empties collection vehicles.

So I was a way back behind Brian when these mutts took a disliking to him.

They started up a racket of barking and carrying on till the big head mutt appeared from around the corner. He took a good long look at Brian, and decided he wasn't worth even a sniff! He called off the gang and wandered back around the corner! Sorry  mate thumbs down for you on this one!

The monkey road... sorry no Monkeys!

Markets in Pathankot

Vote for me and you can have all the garbage you want!

Ain't I a pretty thing? Yeh I guess so...

Listening to DUST IN THE WIND Kansas 1977

Ok if you remember this one you're old! Produced

in 1977 by Kansas, a bunch of hippie sorts with way too much 

hair, it's still a great song. Give it a spin, sit back, and let the dust sweep over you... almost makes dust seem pleasant...

Wrong!

Do they write songs like this anymore...

Do they have hair like this anymore...

Maybe not!

REALITY CHECK

Brian and I are in Srinagar together at the Queens Palace Houseboat. So good he's arrived safe and well. It's stunning here, especially in contrast to what we've just been through. Both bikes have dragged us through the heat and crap so far and are running reasonably Ok. Brian's having a great time and doing well on the bike. Me, well, as usual I'm crook as a dog with the worst cold... bloody taxi driver!  I'm writing this sniffing away armed only with a totally soaked hanky and no medication. I guess I will have to wait a day or two to try and ward this mongrel thing off. I've lost my camera charge cable as well so it's 21st century time for me and I have to use the phone camera... shit... someone call a young person! Also my main debit card has been a pain to use... as in, it won't give me money (sorta why I brought it) so that's been a pain as weIl. I couldn't be happier otherwise. India and Kashmir has been an  eye popping contrast of awful and amazing. Just what I was hoping for. As we're about to get rather remote soon I'm not sure when the next blog will be...

stick with us!

NEXT, IT'S GOING UP TIME,

INTO THE MOUNTAINS WE GO!

Thankyou for all your comments 

and please keep them coming! 

I know it's a crappy process but 

they are all read and appreciated!