"Swim The Himalayas"

The alarm went off at 05h30 as planned, and we wearily packed our bags, not exactly thrilled about having to head out into the wet of the Kalimpong hills. Breakfast was at 06h00, and I avoided anything vaguely "dangerous" (milk, eggs, butter) as my stomach had been ...bubbling...throughout the night! I did not feel very strong in that department, but thankfully the antibiotics Rob had given me two days back seemed to have cleared up my tonsil problems.

We left the hotel between 06h30 and 07h00 waving a final goodbye to Mazda who had come to see us off. The Kalimpong region is the home of beautiful flower nurseries, monasteries and the handicrafts industry. The climate of the area is (usually!) so endearing that residents grow all manner of flowering plants, bulbs, bamboos, tree ferns and aroids... the works. The magnificent plant life here was the first thing that caught my attention this morning - the trees were old and majestic and the forest was lush, dense and radiantly green. The soft morning light certainly did the surroundings justice! I kept my eyes peeled for foxes - apparently families of foxes live in the forested areas surrounding Kalimpong and from autumn to early summer they serenade you at night. I think that I actually heard them the previous night, but thought that they were dogs! Unfortunately we saw no wildlife.

Because of the heavy rain, Rob and Ed had decided not to take the partially un-charted, higher altitude route we had discussed earlier. Instead we backtracked into the valley, re-crossing the bridges we had come over the previous evening. The river had visibly grown overnight, and the water did not look very hospitable. The rain was clearly taking its toll on the road, and the picturesque section on which we were riding high above the river was (in places) crumbling into the river 100's of metres below. I had no doubt that land- and mudslides were soon to become a major problem.

Overnight a series of new obstacles had formed waiting to test our riding ability. Small rivers now flowed down the mountainside and right across the road in many places. Not only was the fast moving water sometimes tough to negotiate, it was also destroying the road. I'm convinced that the road (the NH 31A) became impassable later in the day.

Although we were on a "national highway", it was early in the morning and the road was not busy. The rain continued, but our waterproof clothing held out well. On one section of muddy track I had a moment of indecision, missed a gear and nearly got stuck. The conditions were starting to challenge us, and we almost forgot about the rain!

We all pulled over at the NaNa Hotel (N 26°58'05.3" E 088°25'03.1") for a cup of hot tea. The proprietor had been very...generous...when he used the term "hotel", as it was really just a shack on the side of the road overlooking the raging river below. Standing, we could all just fit into the room. The tea was OK, and it was good to get out of the rain for a while.

The countryside started changing, and I now noticed a mix of plantations and tea estates. The terrain flattened and, away from the mountains, the people seemed to become more wretched. We started seeing more sick looking cows, water buffalo and street dogs. The streets started becoming dumping grounds. The potholes worsened. The monkeys on the side of the road looked decidedly unhappy. It was wetter than the inside of a geriatric's incontinence underwear. We didn't stop.

The team regrouped on the bridge over the rampant Teesta river (N 26°53'10.5" E 088°28'32.8"). This took us off of NH31A and onto the NH31 heading south, where we encountered more trucks. This road surface was newly repaired and, for the first time on this trip, we were achieving speeds of up to 80 km/h!! Rain? What rain? I think that, by now, we had all become one with the fucking rain...we had discovered the rain-man within ourselves ;-) We were approaching a Buddhist country after all!

We were now on the plains of north Bengal, driving through extensive plantations of Assam tea. Our lunch stop was at the "Heaven Hotel" in Binnaguri (N 26°44'44.8" E 089°03'08.3"). The owner ushered this bunch of wet rats upstairs where we made vain attempts at drying out. Debra's boots were full of water (surprisingly, mine were still fine), the video camera had stopped working, and Debs Canon Ixus was waterlogged and out of operation. Our passports and licences were soaked...basically everything was stuffed! The hotel was everything but Heaven...and then it started raining even harder :-(

The lunch pack was pretty good - a chicken leg, two boiled eggs and two small sandwiches. Coke and tea. Rob made an offer that we couldn't refuse - if they wanted to, the pillion riders could drive into Bhutan in one of the mini vans that would be accompanying us from here. Debs and Carla accepted, and she took all of the wet equipment with them.

The fact that the girls were in the van "liberated" John and I, and for the first time we experienced the Enfield without a passenger. The rain was still pelting down, but we weren't phased. The absence of passengers lightened the responsibility we had been bearing - if we fell over now, only one person could potentially get injured! When we got onto the final section of road for the day, we were glad that we had no passengers - it was without doubt, the worst road surface we had yet encountered (postscript: it was definitely the worst road surface of the trip). For many kilometres, there were more potholes than asphalt, and it was a matter of "choose your crater"...not that easy when they're full of water! John and I spent a lot of time up on our foot pegs, and actually had a great time, probably going way faster than we should have ;-). I felt like I was 17 again - "Hey it's raining!! Lets take the bikes and find the worst potholed dirt road in the world"!!

In places the roads and streets were now rivers, and there was no solid surface on which to ride. In one village, Chris hit a submerged curbstone that had been dislodged and washed into the road. The Enfield stopped dead, and he fell of into the torrent to his left. John and I battled to find neutral, but eventually got our cycles on their centre- stands, and helped Chris to extract the Enfield from the river. It started without a problem.

"Jaigon. Shit. Still only in Jaigon..." (Martin Sheene [almost!], "Apocalypse Now")

As we approached the India-Bhutan border at Jaigon (N 26°51'34.5" E°089 22'50.0"), we rode through a long, very muddy section. The people living here were the poorest of the poor, and many of the dwellings and shanties were under 30 cm of water or more. After a full day in the pelting rain we were kind of insensitive to the poverty and misery around us, and 100% focussed on what we were doing. It was actually becoming enjoyable! This was definitely an example of "turning every threat into an opportunity".

The Indian immigration formalities did not take too long, and by 16h30 we were riding into the Kingdom of Bhutan through the beautiful and typically Bhutanese gateway at Phuntsholing. Quite literally, one turns right at the end of Jaigon's main street, passes through the arch, and crosses into Bhutan! Rob took our passports to complete the visa application process. Apparently the passport check was in the mountains a few kilometres up the road. Immediately to our right was the Druk Hotel (N 26°51'38.1" E 089°22'55.9") where we checked in for the night. It had been a long and difficult day, and I was glad to collapse into room 105. The room soon looked like a refugee camp as we packed everything out in an attempt to get our saturated stuff dry before morning.

Supper was excellent, and we slept very early. Officially there was no alcohol on sale at the hotel as Tuesdays have officially been declared "dry days" in Bhutan. DRY day...ironic eh? However, neither the weather nor the law was going to stop Debs and I after the day's ride. We sourced some "under the counter" beer, and drank quietly in our room!