View Larger Map
Sunday, January 5th – Barwala to near Rohtak, 15,974 km
Leaving Barwala this morning, we pass mounds or cow or oxen carcasses, picked clean of their meat, that have been piled up in a field near the edge of town. Perhaps there has been a plague of some kind here, because they certainly would not have been used for meat. This is something European or North American societies would have hidden from view but in India it’s out in the open.
It is growing a bit warmer as we move south each day. We do not need to wear our cycling tights as long. In fact, today Frank starts without his but he does. Actually, our start is delayed today. Frank has found another broken spoke which he missed on his inspection last night. His frustration is starting to show somewhat. He isn't sure if the mechanics who rebuilt his wheel in Pakistan did something wrong since they were unfamiliar with the way western bicycle wheels are constructed with the spokes crossing each other.
But once he has repaired the wheel and we are moving again he puts it out of his mind. We are moving south on a small paved side road towards the village of Hansi. These first 30 km to Hansi are the best cycling of the day as there is very little traffic, but beyond Hansi we are on Hwy 10 which heads directly towards the city of Rohtak and then to New Delhi. All regional traffic heading to New Delhi uses this road. We have another 80 km to cover to reach Rohtak, where we are aiming for today.
We pass through a couple villages on the way to Rohtak, but only very small ones. There are plenty of roadside restaurants and we do take a few breaks here and there, sometimes to have a break from the annoying truck traffic. I am a bit concerned about making Rohtak before dark but Frank isn't. We can pitch our tent anywhere, he tells me. Thank gawd he has a tent. Not having one myself, I am not used to it and forget I have this option while traveling with Frank.
This is a long day, made longer by the ever increasing truck traffic. It seems to grind on forever. As the sun is near to setting behind us we are still ten kilometres from Rohtak. Frank suddenly veers off the road ahead of me, onto a dirt road. On either side of the road there are sugar cane crops growing. "Let's camp here!" he says with a gleam in his eye, as though this would be something special.
I follow him into a partially cleared field, into an indentation in the tall wall of cane that rises two and a half metres above us. One problem is already blatantly obvious. The cane stubble beneath our feet is tough and uneven. We lean our bikes up against the cane and spend 15 minutes stomping on the stubble until it in relatively flat. Then we set up Frank's tent and stretch out our sleeping bags.
It is proper etiquette to ask a farmer if you can camp on his land, but we don't know which farmer the field belongs to. We don't expect to be seen here by anyone because we won't be building a fire or walking around. As soon as it is dark, we retire to our tent and read. I am happy to in bed early because my stomach is sour and rumbling. My system is fighting something so I skip dinner. Hopefully it will pass without too much discomfort. Frank makes a sandwich and eats it in the tent.
Later in the evening we hear voices of young men. Our lights are out but a few minutes later the light from a campfire they have started hits our tent. From all the laughing and joking, it seems they are here to party. At first they don't see us and I caution Frank not to go out. The last thing I want is to be kept up all night.
They keep adding to the fire and the light grows brighter. Suddenly they see our yellow tent against the sugar cane and this excites them. Frank says he'd better go out and greet them or they'll be sticking their heads into the tent. I am still feeling queasy so I stay put. They hear Frank say something to me and they are convinced he has a girl with him. He tells them I am sick but they want to see for themselves. One of them, the farmer's son I presume, sticks his head through the flap and confirms to the others that I am in fact a guy and I am sick. Of course, for all they know I could be Frank's 'girl' but I am the only one considering that unlikely option.
They are excited to have Frank with them, as I knew they would be. They are loud and boisterous. The concept of keeping quiet when someone nearby is sick doesn't seem to cross their minds. They keep Frank up until the middle of the night. He tells me later that they wouldn't let him return to his bed. By leaving the tent he had committed to staying up with them. There is no way around it.
PHOTO 1: cow carcasses in Barwala
PHOTO 2: me taking a rest in a farmer's field
PHOTO 3: at our lunch stop, road to Rohtak
PHOTO 4: a main irrigation canal
PHOTO 5: our tent set up in the cane field
No comments:
Post a Comment