21-24 September: Delhi to Agra

Well, as I’m writing this with a bit of a cold and a lungs full of dust from a long day on the road, I just can’t find the words to do these couple of days justice nor write without it sounding like a junior school diary, and then, and then and then... So skim the waffle and just try the pictures this time would be my recommendation! 

So the great day finally arrived after a week of paperwork and waiting. Having spent a whole day waiting at the BMW garage for my bike not to turn up because of a paperwork error at DHL preventing it being shipped, then a second morning there before a call to my mobile saying it would go instead to my hotel as it’s nearer, was that OK. A rapid taxi ride across town got me back to the hotel just in time for a call from another person from DHL asking why I wasn’t at the BMW garage to sign for my bike as they wouldn’t do it, another day down the bin! 

Anyway, all thats in the past now, and with the bike re-assembled in very little time, topped up with petrol, thanks to an eager guy from the hotel running to the nearest station and bringing a couple of litres back, oil thanks to local biker Praveen and the new battery is working as a treat. The only oddity is a constant slight oil leak from the top of the oil tank where you pour it in, I could understand a leak from the bottom, but for it to be coming out the top is a bit strange, hopefully it’ll be manageable. 

Uncrating my bike on the street

Finally! Back together, thanks to the hotel
guys who did loads of running around

The first thing you notice about India is the humidity of post-monsoon rain, the temperature is similar to Turkey, but the air is totally different, so close and also so dusty. Getting ready to leave Delhi was a nerve jangling moment, glad to be moving again but apprehensive about the insane traffic. Luckily there’s a strange logic to it, the volume keeps speed very low and once you accept anyone will go anywhere in any direction at any time with no indication, it makes a strange sort of sense. 

First destination on the radar was Agra, home of the Taj Mahal and a straight 200kms down the road from Delhi. This journey really made me sit up and re-think the rest of my plans for India. Even on National Highway routes, the equivalent of major motorways, average speeds keep close to 50km/h which means going anywhere will take at least twice as long as you’d expect. Also with the humidity, riding anything over 200km, not an otherwise taxing distance, becomes almost impossible without a huge break because so much happens on the road, your brain becomes as frazzled as your body is dehydrated. 

Other main points of interest are speed bumps with no markings which come up on you quickly if you’re following another vehicle, endless, enormous ‘like you wouldn’t believe’ potholes and stretches even on major roads where the tarmac ends to be replaced by rubble and sand. 

After a long, long days ride to Agra, seeing the Taj Mahal briefly through a line of trees on the main road into town was a moment to remember. Finding a place to stay was easy enough, Agra is the ultimate tourist town with hotels for all budgets strung along every main road through the old part of town. After learning the Indian way of turning right at a roundabout – go all the way round, pah, just cut across oncoming traffic to take the most direct way there, I found a simple place with a place to park out of view and only a kilometre or so from all the sights. 

With it getting late I just took a shower and called it an early night, the dust and grime that comes off your neck after a day on the road is incredible! 

Sadly because of the tourist-trap nature of it, you notice a completely different attitude to people. In Delhi taking an auto-rickshaw taxi is easy, you just flag one down (they’re everywhere) agree a price and off you go. In Agra, once you get in one, they want to stay with you all day, and will wait outside anywhere you go, just to jump on you on the way out to earn a half days guide fee rather than a single ride. It’s kind of annoying in a place where nothing’s easy, every little annoyance just feels that much worse than it really is.

Discovering the Taj Mahal is closed on Fridays, the first day in town I headed off to see the Red Fort in Agra. Similar to the one in Delhi, it’s another Mughal fort part occupied by the army to this day so only a small section is open to walk around, though importantly the outer wall facing the Taj is OK to access. It’s odd that such an amazing sight in itself is limited really to being an elaborate viewing platform for another, smaller building a short way down the river. Enormous 2.5km long dusty red outer walls are an impressive sight, though not quite as impressive though as the riverside spot on the opposite bank of the Yamuna river to the main sight in town.

Red fort, Agra

Red Fort, Agra with the Taj in the background

Red Fort, Agra looking towards the Taj

Inside the Red Fort, Agra

Taj Mahal from the riverside

Women carrying sticks along the river

Me at the Taj Mahal!!

Sun going down, as the mozzies
come out in force its time to go

Lingering around on a little spot of hard packed mud that locals said was well and truly underwater a few weeks ago, watching the sunset off to the right hand side with the Taj Mahal changing colour infront of you is something else. Occasionally herders move cattle up the muddy riverside and women walk past in bright coloured clothes carrying firewood which all just adds to the atmosphere. 

It’s really impossible to find words to describe the Taj Mahal, its far more beautiful a place than the millions of photos you’ll have seen suggest. Getting up at 4am is always rough, but a short bicycle rickshaw ride to the west gate to queue for tickets with the few other early risers is well worth it. Like visiting Machu Picchu, getting there at sunrise is the best time of day, crowds are light and the air is clear before the sweltering heat of the day mixes with the thousands of visitors that must pass through everyday.

Sunrise at the Taj Mahal before the crowds arrive

A shadow from the mosque on the Taj

A photographer watches the sun rise

The story of this place is fairly well known, build as a mausoleum to his wife Mumtaz Mahal by Mughal emperor Shah Jahan. Symmetry is important to both the main building and surroundings. A mosque to the west is repeated on the east with a building that has no specific purpose, just there to balance out the site. There are so many technical descriptions of how it was built and all the rest at many places across the internet, so no need for me to replace them here. 

That it is a monument to love makes this place truly special. Architecture and landscaped gardens articulate what their creators cared about. Barely anything is built from love or delight these days, for many good economic reasons, which makes it all the more special to enjoy some time spend in a place like this. The minute detail on every surface from inlaid floral patterns to delicate carved marble screens, it’s impossible to appreciate the effort put in and attention to detail. It’s a building to be appreciated in fine resolution, few cathedrals and palaces anywhere in the world have such close-up detail matched with incredible beauty of the whole when seen from a distance.  

 

There are actually fairly extensive grounds beautifully landscaped, all designed to give glimpses of the Taj through tress and from unexpected angles. The few folks there early on all just walk round, looking for a quiet corner, nobody says anything because we’re all thinking the same thing, wow! It’s the architectural equivalent of meeting an a-list celebrity, something you’ve seen so many times in photos and on TV that it’s really hard to believe they’re right there infront of you!

At the Taj's mosque

You have to do this pose apparently!

Early morning light over the Yamuna river

People watching shadows moving
as the sun rises

Details of the Taj Mahal

View from the gardens

Famous viewpoint

Reflecting in a water pool

People walking on the platform in front of the Taj Mahal

People walking on the platform in front of the Taj Mahal

A couple sitting on a bench infront of the Taj

I was there!

13 - 20 September: New Delhi

Up early to leave Istanbul on a mid-day flight, I was whizzed to the airport by the ever-kind bike club, my bike already in DHL’s cargo departure zone so just clothes and my bike’s drained battery with me. There was some time to sit round as I’d turned up very early anticipating trouble with taking the battery as hold luggage, but in the end it was fine, so more time for a coffee and some reading. 

The flight to Abu Dhabi was straight forward, albeit on an Airbus which always seem to rattle and shake more than Boeing planes. I learned to avoid sitting on the emergency exit rows if possible, the extra legroom is offset by being surrounded by the most neurotic passengers who have clearly pre-booked to sit there so they’re closest to the exit if the worst happens and chirp on about every little thing all flight.

Flying across India to Delhi, early morning

 Waiting until 1am in Abu Dhabi to catch a connecting flight to New Delhi meant it was essentially a sleepless night as the two flights individually were too short to get any sleep. The end result was stepping out of New Delhi airport at 6am after being awake for over 24 hours into the mayhem outside. Everything about Delhi was completely new and alien, even just the short 10 minute walk from the metro station to my hotel. When the unexpected becomes the norm then isn't that now the expected so does that mean we should expect what used to be the unexpected? I'm confused, tired and my head hurts, but there’s no time to rest because Customs opens at 10. 

It’s widely reported on the best motorcycle travelling website www.horizonsunlimited.com that India is one of the worst place to ship a bike to because the import processes are incredibly long winded and bureaucratic. I’d have to agree in principle, having spent 8 hours a day for four days sat waiting around either DHL’s office and Custom’s House occasionally showing bits of paper to different officials and signing various documents. All in all though, despite it taking time, the process wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined. The customs people were also exceptionally friendly, my agent there bought lunch for me out of his own pocked and kept tea and water flowing all day. Very polite for the civil service! 

Paperwork in Customs office

Curry lunch kindly provided by my customs agent

Customs building at New Delhi airport

During the week, there would have been no biking anyway as monsoon rains fell with amazing power, it rained more in one hour than it has done since 1904 newspapers reported the following day. Outsode roads were flooding making getting anywhere virtually impossible, at least I was inside and the building only leaked in the canteen, reception area and stairways, so stayed mostly dry.

Bike arriving at DHL's depot for inspection

Carnet stamped and signed off - Friday night

DHL's office - all I'd seen of Delhi until Sunday!

Customs moved my bike in its crate to the DHL depot on Friday night for a final ‘open the crate so we can check chassis and engine numbers'. A final payment was handed over on Saturday morning for various fees and charges which meant I had cleared my bike from customs and it was now with DHL to deliver next week. 

On Tuesday and Wednesday nights I’d met with some local bikers, Praveen and Ashwani, as well as an Austrian, Tom, returning to India after riding here last year. This led to some changes to my plans which are in another post, but apart from this, I’d spent all week around the airport so decided to use Sunday to go see the Red Fort, one of Delhi’s few tourist attractions. It’s an enormous structure and worth a good couple of hours to see. Despite some amazing Muhgal architecture (the little touches really are beautiful) I suspect there’s more to see elsewhere in India that will overshadow it. I missed the evening sound and light show there as I’d arrived to see it in daytime and didn’t fancy sitting round for 4 hours until it started at 9.30pm.

Red Fort, New Delhi

Inside the Red Fort, New Delhi

Inside the Red Fort, New Delhi

Inside the Red Fort, New Delhi

This far I’ve been lucky to avoid Delhi Belly, but am suffering from the less mentioned condition, Delhi Deafness. The noise if you’re anywhere near a road is incredible. Basically cars and bikes beep as they overtake each other or weave between lanes, which happens constantly. If you’re on a narrow path near a road, ear plugs are an absolute must!

So Monday came, I’d agreed to have my bike shipped to a BMW garage that was an official importer of BMW motorcycles to India - the first one. Unfortunately this meant the showroom had a token 1200gs in the corner and no mechanic / motorcycle parts should I need them.

Nevertheless I waited there all day waiting for DHL to deliver ‘before 6.30pm’. Nothing happened and at 7ish they answered my call that my bike had never left because someone had forgotten to enter on the computer system that I’d paid the duty and it was therefore clear to go. 

Tuesday came and I set off again on a 1.5 hour trip to the garage on the unbelievably packed Delhi metro. A call from DHL came in at 11 to say there was some issue with delivery and if they could take it to the original location, my hotel (10 mins from their depot) I could have it today, but the garage being about 2 hours drive away – purely because of traffic – would be difficult. So I said yes to dropping it at the hotel and raced back there. Only for a call to come in from DHL saying the BMW garage wouldn’t sign for my bike so what was I going to do? Getting stressy with someone on the phone rarely helps, but it was clearly another cock-up at their end and as things stand, I'm back in my hotel with no bike, a view of a wall, and an enormous ceiling fan that wobbles as it spins looking like it will fall and chop my legs off at any moment. 

Sir, I have a job... Find my bike please!

I really want to be on the move again!

Ch-ch-ch Changes

Looking at maps and talking to some bikers over here, I’ve come to decide on a few big changes to the plan for my trip post Christmas. Before then it remains fairly straightforward – around India and Nepal ending up in Kathmandu late December to fly home for a two week break over Christmas to catch up with friends and family. After then, the plan, originally riding to Bangladesh then South India, changes significantly. 

Tom, an Austrian who did the exact same ride from Kathmandu to Goa last year said it's two weeks of riding through fog bound desert environments for hours a day with relatively little to see. Adding to this I really don’t want to fly out of India to New Zealand, because the customs process has been a nightmare, much better everyone says, to fly out of Nepal as many people do with far less hassle. So that would involve another two week trip back up to North India, then Nepal, losing a total of 4 weeks to slogging cross country with little to see.

Recommendations over lunch one night from Tom, Praveen and Ashwani (local riders) suggested flying my bike home at Christmas time from Nepal (cheapest and easiest option). Then in early January flying back into Goa, hiring an Enfield for a while from there, then flying onto NZ and buying a bike locally over there, selling it when I’m done. 

Ashwani, Praveen, Tom & I with
Tom's big 1200GS

This solves so many problems in one go, and frees up so much time and money I can’t see any other way of doing things now. Apart from the fact I would love to have a ride on an Enfield anyway, they’re so full of character, I still get to motorcycle anywhere I choose, but without having the huge concern of shipping my bike to and from New Zealand when time will be more of an issue than I has been to date. 

So the next few weeks, once my bike is delivered from DHL (one week and waiting) is to ride a loop around northern India taking in plenty of touristy sights, move onto Nepal in late October for some riding and walking, then ship my bike to England, and fly back myself for Christmas. Storing my bike at Mum & Dad’s place hopefully, I’ll then fly back to Nepal, change for a short local flight to Goa saving a 2,000 mile slog, giving me January to March to explore southern India on an Enfield before returning the bike and flying to New Zealand with no hassle of crating and freighting a bike to a country with incredibly strict import requirements (no wooden crates I believe would be the first problem). 

I was planning to ship my bike back from the UK from India anyway as the cost of freighting to NZ, then back to the UK would be astronomical, I should imagine little change from £4,000 at least. With that much at play, I could buy a bike there (spotted a Yamaha v-max – one of my dream bikes!) and sell it when I’m done. Even anticipating a loss for a quick sale, it would be a fraction of the cost. 

This also gets around me having to renew my carnet which has a cost as it would expire when I’m in NZ, so really, I think the second 6 months of the trip will be more about using local transport than making a continuous trip with my bike. 

It comes at a cost of pride for not doing the whole thing on “my” bike, but the cash cost alone makes the argument sound.

Videos...

Just a quick update as a few people have asked about video updates on Youtube... My friend Pete who edits the hours of footage together to an understandable short video is having some technology issues so they're on hold for the moment, if it all gets up and running again, I'll post another update here with some information.

30 August - 12 September: Goodbye to Istanbul

Initially I was a bit concerned, Istanbul will always be low on the average Leeds United fans list of places to visit with its partisan football fans, I imagined I couldn't be deeper behind the lines if I was to wear a false moustache and be discretely dispensing tunnel soil out of my trousers. Of course as it turns out, whilst the designer goods on the markets may be dubious, the friendliness and warmth of a welcome in Istanbul is totally genuine, not to mention abundant.

So despite playing it safe and answering ‘York City’ to the inevitable “which team” question (two Leeds fans were murdered in Istanbul in a tempestuous Champions League game a few years ago), the past 11 days have flown by. The day after I arrived back, Richard (www.realizeddream.com) and Harry (www.freedom-on2wheels.com) arrived to the club on two enormous, and in Harry’s case, well loaded BMW 1200GS’ (newer versions of the Ewan and Charlie bikes). Its the first time I’ve seen these types of bike up close and I’d be terrified at the weight and expense – each one of them cost more than my whole trip budget including my bike!  

It’s great to put the world to rights over a beer with a group of friends who understand the same experience you’re going through. The problem of travelling solo for stretches is that putting the world to rights in a conversation with yourself is the first step toward a slippery slope. It ends up with James Bond abseiling into your volcano, blowing up your frikkin moon laser and pushing you into that piranha pool that was a bad idea but was just sooo you… 

Several days passed in a blur of Touratech catalogue reading and trips out to CouchSurfing events. Each night we’d go out for a meal which proved a little tricky at times with Harry having to have a beer with food which ruled out 99% of the local places. However, after many laughs and too many Efes beers to count, Richard and Harry set off to South Africa after a party at the bike club to celebrate their leaving, Pascale & Abi’s arrival and Apo’s birthday. 

CouchSurfing do in Taksim

Abby and Pascale

Istanbul bike club together for a triple celebration

In the background to all the time with Richard and Harry we were getting my bike crated and repaired ready for its trip to India. A new chain and sprocket set, badly needed, was fitted in no time and a new rear tyre that will hopefully last well into New Zealand were all sorted. With the club having some ready to go crates in the back of their garage due to the number of bikes received / sent by air, making the crate was more meccano than original work, but it was still useful to have half a dozen guys around to lift it by hand into the back of a DHL van!

Running repairs - new sprockets and chain

Job done, packed ready for shipping

Via DHL to Delhi

With an air freight slip in hand, I was feeling chuffed that the hard work was done, which was amusing in reflection. Customs formalities, which sounds so simple, were a 3 day, 200km nightmare of travelling between offices all over Istanbul to find signatories for various pieces of paper (4 on the important one). Apparently the system changed in April and with a bike being fairly irregular item to the customs people, nobody wanted to take responsibility for signing it off. So having got through more forms than a tax inspector at year end, we finally had approval at 6pm on Thursday night. Except for a call at 7pm that said everything wasn’t fine and there was another big problem. Adi from the club and I went back to the airport and after he spent about 2 hours speaking / shouting in speed Turk (about 3,000 words per minute) a small extra fee was paid (with receipt – I was surprised!) and the final, final OK was given.

One of the Customs offices

One thing Customs were certain about from day 1 was that the battery couldn’t go despite us having an expensive certificate from the manufacturer saying it was safe for air transport (“dangerous goods restrictions do not apply”). Much waving of the dangerous goods restrictions book by an adamant man pointing to a picture of a battery, followed by much explaining that “exempt from” means he shouldn’t consult the book at all eventually came to the conclusion that he didn’t care and the battery had to come out. So I’ve ended up taking it on a passenger flight – much safer I’m sure.

Ataturk airport employee: Is this your bag?

Me: Yes

Ataturk airport employee: Is that a camera battery

Me: Yes

Ataturk airport employee: Can you open your bag please

Me: As I said, it’s a motorcycle battery

Ataturk airport employee: you will leave it in your hold luggage won’t you?

Me: Yes

Ataturk airport employee: On you go

So that was that, something else sorted that could have seriously derailed my plans (can you get correct size/shape batteries for a bike not sold in India?? Importing one would have been tough with the legendry 500% import tax).

Finally putting all bike issues to bed, it was time to get out and see some of Istanbul. The Hagia Sofia was the main thing I’d wanted to see since day 1 and the Basilica Cistern where a scene of the Bond film ‘From Russia With Love’ was shot. The Cistern was an oasis of cool air under the city streets with still water and soothing music being piped through. Hundreds of symmetrical columns support a cavernous roof for what used to be the main water supply to the Great Palace in Byzantine times. Following that was surely an architectural highlight of the trip, the Hagia Sofia. Words can’t do this place, now a museum thankfully free of religious ownership. Firstly a cathedral, the largest in the world for 1,000 years, latterly a mosque in Ottoman times, the Hagia Sofia’s religious duties are now taken by the Blue Mosque. Thankfully this leaves a stunningly beautiful, worn in, building free to explore with its curious mix of Christian and Muslim heritage, with many parts of the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus (one of the 7 ancient wonders of the world) thrown into its construction for good measure.  

Basilica Cistern

A medusa head in the Cistern

Hagia Sofia load bearing walls

Inside Hagia Sofia

Inside Hagia Sofia

Inside Hagia Sofia

So, after a further day’s wandering around town with Pascale, Abby and Mehmet, it’s about time to leave Turkey. I’ve lost track of how much unpaid caj we’ve drunk and food eaten, all provided from Turkish hospitality, try buying something back and the force of the ‘no’ that will come your way can be genuinely surprising! 

Richard and Harry leaving

Turkish hospitality!

According to Turkish tradition a guest should leave fatter than he arrived and it seems very likely this will be the case. My debt to the Turkish people I’ve been lucky enough to meet is huge, despite intense heat, huge mileage and dozens of mozzie bites, Turkey has been as naturally beautiful and surprising as it is heart warming. You can’t spend time here and fail to be moved. Moving however is the name of the game and it’s time to leave a country of contrasts for, as Pascale puts it, a country of extremes.

Etihad flight to Abu Dhabi