Friday, 18 June 2010

On A Bullet To The Ganga

When purchasing a motorcycle there are many factors to consider, age, reliability, fuel economy and of course appearance. One out of four isn't bad. A 1972 Enfield Bullet is possibly the most beautiful piece of British engineering in existence, it's slow thumping heartbeat and explosive roar shakes the very foundations of the Earth. Black and silver has never been more perfectly matched. I defy anyone to find a more sublime way to travel hundreds of miles across the vastness of India. Yeah, I bought one, Shes called Yoni. Sure, she doesn't really work and will undoubtedly kill me but God damn what a way to go.

As always life sends me on the right road, through one way or another it seems to give me the means and purpose to fulfil dreams. Maybe it was the obvious offer of a bike, maybe peoples insanity or maybe it was the mad enthusiasm of the Mexican. I couldn't tell you, but life put everything in front of me and just said take it. What could I do, it must be fate right? Life had become almost structured and I liked it, but I'm not quite ready for normality yet, so the Bullet was loaded and we blasted off into the pale orange Himalayan sunrise, the open road has never held so much promise.

Thundering through glorious pine forests with the sun dappled road winding endlessly before us we made good time. The hills rolled past in a blur of spectacular colours, vibrant and powerful. Stopping whenever the desire came to eat fresh mangos in remote road side stalls. The blistering heats of the plains gave me the the beautiful opportunity to clamber my way into the bows of a great tree and lay gazing at the glowing rice fields that surrounded me. Yoni ran like a dream, she carried us through thick and thin, packed like a faithful donkey with limitless energy and insuppressible life. Finally we pulled in to a nameless town as the sun was setting after spending eight solid hours in the dust. We had hit the National Highway but were in no condition to continue, physically and mentally drained we ate a simple meal and rented a room. With life's perfect capabilities of ruining a perfect day I awoke in the darkest depths of the night and proceeded to vomit myself into unconsciousness, superb news considering the length of the ride to come. Morning brings a tough first few hours but my spirits soar as I behold the most incredible sight yet, the meeting of the two great rivers and the very source of the sacred river Ganges.

The unbelievable energy that river has is indescribable, the clear turquoise water that has travelled hundreds of miles from distant glaciers and continues for yet a thousand more. Utterly magnificent. Yoni has brought us to the most sacred water on Earth and the concept sends my mind spinning. The road now follows the Ganga for two hundred Kms to the city of Rishikesh and the spiritual capital of India. Each and every second I rode I had to reassure myself this intense experience was truly happening. The road leapt and plummeted along the hills, getting tantalisingly close to the river only to send us rocketing back up into the forests. It played with us, mischievous and ever teasing, we were like children just a little too small to reach the cookie jar. However, determination will always prevail and hope came as we finally hit the bustling streets of Rishikesh, the Pink City. The main town sat on the opposite side of the river and it shone in the bright evening sun, glowing with warmth and an ancient prosperity.

They say that when you swim in the Ganga your life's sins are washed away, it's not only a place for redemption and forgiveness but also for hope and happiness. If that's really true then I guess I've been given a new start.

No comments:

Post a Comment