So that whole resetting my internal clock thing, it wasn't happening today. Along with the previously cancelled food tour I had also booked a day trip down to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. As this was advertised as a sunrise tour an early departure was required - a 3am early departure.
As promised the hire car was at the hotel to pick me up at 3am sharp. And we were off through the calm and quiet streets... ya right, even at 3am there were moments of high insanity on the streets getting out of the city.
Once out on the motorway though it was smooth sailing the 2-1/2 hours down to Agra. As we got close to the city on one side of the road was the rising red ball of the rising sun while on the left the pale gray orb of the setting moon. This peaceful scene accentuated with the hazy dew of the morning air plus a bunch of smoke from the very much active medieval brick ovens dotting the landscape.
Once into the city a quick stop was made to pickup the local guide and then off to the Taj Mahal. Not having much in the way of expectations here I was fittingly impressed with the scale of the site - it is a lot bigger than what it looks like in pictures.
In my short time here I've quickly noticed that Indians really like to experience and are very prideful of their history. And that they really really like photographic proof that they really like to experience their history. No exaggeration; I observed a bushful sack full of selfie sticks being fully devored within minutes of the vendor emptying the contents from his back onto the ground. And at all the historical locations I have visited there are swarms of "professional" photographers who for a price will gladly take your picture dramatically posed in front of that site's feature. And then an even more dramatic pose, and then another but this time a little to the right, and one more but now look dreamily off into the distance...
After breakfast (included in the price of the tour) and a stop at the obligatory craft market (anyone need an inlayed black marble chess board) the tour ended at the Agra Fort. Where the Red Fort was dissapointing the Agra Fort exceeded any expectations. With some small remaments of past neglect the sense of past grandeur was mostly perserved.
Then it was back to the car for the 3-hour ride to the hotel where some of the other riders had begun to arrive. And we receive word of several substantial incoming travel delays.
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Acclimatizing June 29 2018
As I woke up Plan A for Friday had been cancelled via email claiming that the guide had fallen ill. I had booked a mid-day walking and eating tour through Old Delhi and the Spice Market for my first steps though the city. Read into this what you will but upon arrival the night before I had an email from the tour operator asking if I would mind changing my booking from Friday to Saturday. He promised more food sampling opportunities as there were more people booked on the Saturday tour- implying that I was the only one booked for Friday. With another commitment already for the Saturday I deferred asking to keep the original booking. Which left me Friday morning with Plan B. Actually there was no Plan B, just Google maps and a general need to go out and experience the city.
Given the opportunity I do like arriving a few days early to get acclimated. Usually its just a need to reset my internal clock and get a sense of the place, but sometimes the weather needs adjusting to too such as here in New Delhi. The Red Fort area seemed a likely contender so after securing a pocketful of Rupees (1 USD = 68.4561 INR) I chanced a ride on the local subway.
Travelling the 3 stops (20 INR) on the clean modern marvel that is the New Delhi underground I entered the streets adjacent to Old Delhi neighborhood. The acclimatizing commenced immediately through the sites and sounds but mostly the smell of the streets.
Navigating my way through the masses I found my into the fort. Bit of a dissapointment as it was mostly roped off and inaccessible for what was claimed to be reconstruction but all I saw was a whole load of neglect and disrepair. Regardless the park like setting was nice and the various palaces and other edifices were impressive enough.
Walking back in the general direction of the hotel I soon realized that as the whitest guy on the streets of New Delhi I must have appeared to be in in need of some extraordinary assistance. While the population of the city as a whole were most friendly a particular cohort was also proving to be persistently helpful. Constant ascertasions that I would be much better being delivered to my destination wherever it may be in the comfort of whatever mechanical or human powered contraption was being offered. And that besides my ulitmate destination there were so many other places to go, especially shopping places. And neither sidewalks nor opposite flowing traffic was an impediment to these offers of help that I so desperately needed according to the oh so helpful.
Amazingly I made it safely back to the hotel unaided where what was supposed to be a quick refreshing rest turned into a deep extended nap. Needless to say, the time zone acclimatizing would not be dealt with today, or is that yesterday... maybe it's tomorrow already.
Given the opportunity I do like arriving a few days early to get acclimated. Usually its just a need to reset my internal clock and get a sense of the place, but sometimes the weather needs adjusting to too such as here in New Delhi. The Red Fort area seemed a likely contender so after securing a pocketful of Rupees (1 USD = 68.4561 INR) I chanced a ride on the local subway.
Travelling the 3 stops (20 INR) on the clean modern marvel that is the New Delhi underground I entered the streets adjacent to Old Delhi neighborhood. The acclimatizing commenced immediately through the sites and sounds but mostly the smell of the streets.
Navigating my way through the masses I found my into the fort. Bit of a dissapointment as it was mostly roped off and inaccessible for what was claimed to be reconstruction but all I saw was a whole load of neglect and disrepair. Regardless the park like setting was nice and the various palaces and other edifices were impressive enough.
Walking back in the general direction of the hotel I soon realized that as the whitest guy on the streets of New Delhi I must have appeared to be in in need of some extraordinary assistance. While the population of the city as a whole were most friendly a particular cohort was also proving to be persistently helpful. Constant ascertasions that I would be much better being delivered to my destination wherever it may be in the comfort of whatever mechanical or human powered contraption was being offered. And that besides my ulitmate destination there were so many other places to go, especially shopping places. And neither sidewalks nor opposite flowing traffic was an impediment to these offers of help that I so desperately needed according to the oh so helpful.
Amazingly I made it safely back to the hotel unaided where what was supposed to be a quick refreshing rest turned into a deep extended nap. Needless to say, the time zone acclimatizing would not be dealt with today, or is that yesterday... maybe it's tomorrow already.
Day Of The Long Nights. June 26 - June 28 2018
Note to self, sometimes just making a list isn't enough... sometimes it helps if you check it a time or two too. Ya, even though it was written down several places; when I transferred the essentials into my minimalist travel wallet I forgot to grab my drivers license. An issue that made it's self apparent when I checked into the Vancouver Airport hotel the night before my morning flight. After one email back to the home office citing specific instructions on locating and international express shipping options and another to the tour operator explaining my situation I foolishly tried to sleep. Part way through that failed experiment having run through a multitude of scenarios my phone announced the receipt of an email. It was from the tour operator suggesting that this was not the end of the world and the digital copy I had should suffice. With a second email off to the home office with the stand down instructions a few hours of sleep were found.
My flight to India involved a short layover in Toronto with the first flight departing Vancouver just after it's scheduled time of noon. Which was unfortunate as the Brazil-Serbia match had just started when I had to leave the lounge and get to the gate. Oh well, wasn't like it was something important like a Sounders-Timbers match #100.
A short visit to the lounge at the international departures pier in Toronto was about all I was allowed before boarding started for the scheduled 10:30pm departure of the second leg. The flight to New Delhi was originally cited as 13 hours and 50 minutes but as we sat at the gate that time oscillated from 12 hours and change to 15 hours on the seat back flight monitors. Regardless, I was going to be leaving Toronto Wednesday night and landing in New Delhi Thursday night.
Waking from a typical restless airplane "sleep" somewhere over Turkmenistan it appeared that we had made good time with a prospective arrival time some 30 minutes earlier than advertised. And it all looked good right up to the point that we fly right by New Delhi and another hour was added to the flight time. We then spent the next 20 minutes circling at an altitude of 5971m and then another 20 minutes in that same holding pattern at 3457m. We eventually straightened out and started through one of the slowest descents I can remember being on.
With the customs card filled in and visa in hand I dutifully got in line at the first class/business class booth. Unfortunately it turned out that my electronically provisioned visa meant I was ineligible for this particular privilege of the ticket class and I actually was supposed to have gone all the way down to the end of the arrivals lounge where my visa would be processed. Signs would have helped - end of commentary.
After clearing immigration and picking up my bags the hotel shuttle driver was exactly where he was promised to be. And for the next 45 minutes I got a small taste of New Delhi traffic... Of which I will have to rank right up there with Istanbul, Tehran, Lanzhou and Boston.
My flight to India involved a short layover in Toronto with the first flight departing Vancouver just after it's scheduled time of noon. Which was unfortunate as the Brazil-Serbia match had just started when I had to leave the lounge and get to the gate. Oh well, wasn't like it was something important like a Sounders-Timbers match #100.
A short visit to the lounge at the international departures pier in Toronto was about all I was allowed before boarding started for the scheduled 10:30pm departure of the second leg. The flight to New Delhi was originally cited as 13 hours and 50 minutes but as we sat at the gate that time oscillated from 12 hours and change to 15 hours on the seat back flight monitors. Regardless, I was going to be leaving Toronto Wednesday night and landing in New Delhi Thursday night.
Waking from a typical restless airplane "sleep" somewhere over Turkmenistan it appeared that we had made good time with a prospective arrival time some 30 minutes earlier than advertised. And it all looked good right up to the point that we fly right by New Delhi and another hour was added to the flight time. We then spent the next 20 minutes circling at an altitude of 5971m and then another 20 minutes in that same holding pattern at 3457m. We eventually straightened out and started through one of the slowest descents I can remember being on.
With the customs card filled in and visa in hand I dutifully got in line at the first class/business class booth. Unfortunately it turned out that my electronically provisioned visa meant I was ineligible for this particular privilege of the ticket class and I actually was supposed to have gone all the way down to the end of the arrivals lounge where my visa would be processed. Signs would have helped - end of commentary.
After clearing immigration and picking up my bags the hotel shuttle driver was exactly where he was promised to be. And for the next 45 minutes I got a small taste of New Delhi traffic... Of which I will have to rank right up there with Istanbul, Tehran, Lanzhou and Boston.
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
Thanks, Google... o(≧o≦)o
Seems like Google has decided to make using the tools of their's that I use damn near impossible to use on an iPad. Seeing as all I have is an iPad and a phone there won't be much blogging or photo gallery updates on this trip through Ecuador.
I have set up an Instagram account under the alias lonnngways were I will try to post up some pictures along the way.
Here is the phone number and email to contact Google and complain if you are so inclined.
1-650-253-0000
support@google.com
I have set up an Instagram account under the alias lonnngways were I will try to post up some pictures along the way.
Here is the phone number and email to contact Google and complain if you are so inclined.
1-650-253-0000
support@google.com
Saturday, July 9, 2016
Waiting For A Train.
Celebrating Jim's birthday with a fantastic meal is starting to turn into a thing. Last year it was Shanghai, this year it was at Muncho Lake BC. Once again the weather cleared and we had a great morning riding down through the northern Canadian Rockies.
Once the mountains receded and we approached Alberta things got boring. But we did find possibly the greatest cinnamon buns ever baked at the Testa River Lodge. Leaving Fort St. John it seemed appropriate to take a run out the Peace River Valley past the Site C damn site. It is an an extremely beautiful valley and a real shame that it is destined to be 50M under water in the near future. Seeing it was Canada Day (July 1), a stop at a Canadian institution was warranted (in Chetwynd of all places).
It was at this point that the group got separated. No big deal, we have technology and cell phone connections. The thing is that when you are sending email messages and satellite communications texts it helps if the other parties notice the new message blinking red LED on their phones and satellite communicators. None the less our path crossed at a gas station in Grande Prairie and we all headed off to Route 40 and Hinton for the night. "Hinton?", you ask. Well if you ever looked up the price of a hotel room in Jasper over a holiday long weekend in the summer you'd understand. The finale of this trip was a classic - down the Columbia Icefields Parkway from Jasper down to Lake Louise then across Yoho National Park and Rogers Pass to Revelstoke.
Our timing as we pulled into the parking lot at the Spiral Tunnels was impeccable; the screaming brakes of a train coming down the hill filled the valley. We took up our viewing positions and waited for the train.
And sure enough the front of the train made itself around the bend and headed into the tunnel.
And a little later thst same front of the train appeared a little lower down the mountain at the tunnel exit. The rest of the train was still snaking around the bend and into the tunnel entrance above.
One of my favourite restaurants in the world is in Revelstoke, so not to leave anything to chance I had made reservations a few days before. And of course in the intermediate time I had had the taste of the superb Woolsey Creek Bistro's bison back ribs on my tongue - thankfully they weren't sold out when we took our seats. In fact they had enough for five of the six of us. And trust a Californian to find a local wine that none of the locals had ever heard of before but now intent on finding more of. Our last morning together on this ride found us at a French boulangerie staffed by Australians in a small town in BC; where in the winter cold arctic air meets warm pacific air sucked up the Columbia River and dumps a crap ton of snow every year. But all that snow only explains why the Australian are here.
It was here the group separated once again, this time on purpose. Those of us that headed south had a great uncluttered ride down through the Kootenays on down to Wenatchee.
Those that headed over the Coquihalla thinking they were on that fast track home quickly found all that last day of the long weekend traffic heading hone at the same time.
Anyways, it was a great 10-days or so ride around BC with a great bunch of guys who for the most part only met up about a year ago in Istanbul. There's still a bunch of BC that might be there later but I'm not planning on chancing anything.
Anyways, it was a great 10-days or so ride around BC with a great bunch of guys who for the most part only met up about a year ago in Istanbul. There's still a bunch of BC that might be there later but I'm not planning on chancing anything.
Thursday, July 7, 2016
All The Jade In China...
The owner of the hotel had noticed our noisy efforts out in his front yard - and believe me the 5 of can raise a ruckus - and volunteered that the local mechanic in town was pretty good. "Up here if you call yourself a mechanic, you better be good", I believe was his exact description of Charlie. So first thing in the morning it was to Charlie's Place to see what he could for a broken bolt. With some of his first words after taking a first pass at it being "Wow, that bolt is pretty hard steel", it wasn't looking good. But he managed to get a pilot hole through and enough bite with an easy-out bit to remove the bolt. A few minutes rummaging around the spare parts bin found an appropriately sized bolt with the correct thread count and pitch. And Dean was happy to be on his way with the rest of us.
The morning was clear but clouding over with full on rain by the time we got to Watson Lake. But the nice part provided some great scenery and an ever increasing wildlife count - note the 3-beaver heads in the picture below.
Up near the north end of Highway 37 is a place called Jade City, a family owned operation that mines and sells Jade.
They even have their own reality TV show.
As approximately 90% of the jade that is currently mined world wide comes from this area I'm pretty certain that all the jade bought last year in China by the Silk Road group came from here. I picked up some things appropriate for this year's ride.
After lunch in Watson Lake, which was about the extent of our time in the Yukon, we rode South back into BC. The weather broke as we pulled up to Liard River Hot Springs providing more than enough time for some messing about in the very warm and sulfurous waters.
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
Breaking In A New Bike
There was 4 of us who met up in Boston Bar that Thursday night and there was still 4 of us passing through Ksan on the way North up Highway 37 two days later.
There also was in addition one straggler who planned to join up with us at Dease Lake on Tuesday night with his tentative departure from the Seattle area early Monday morning - a 1200 mile ride over 2-days. Not only that, but Dean had already ridden up from Southern California in an equally short amount of time; through Bend Oregon because there isn't one of us who won't go the long ways when offered that opportunity. And did I mention that he was on a brand new bike? A 500cc Honda Swiss army knife of a motorcycle that he was shaking down in preparation of ridding next year's Globeriders Cape to Cairo trip - and yes, I am jealous. Monday morning we were all woken up very early as a text message was delivered to our phones from Dean: "Across the border and am now in Canada". It was 5:00AM early in the morning.
We had a beautiful day heading up Highway 37 once waking up again at more reasonable hour.
And the wildlife count escalated with every mile as foxes, martins, marmots, and more bears were passed doing whatever foxes, martins, marmots and bears do along side of the road.
After dinner at the White food shack (partially because it was supposed to be the best food in town but mostly because the Blue shack - the other food option in town - was closed), in Dease Lake we received the second message of the Dean: "In Vanderhoof for the night". A 600 or so mile day's ride. And with that good news we cracked open the second bottle of Scotch for this trip... there were 4 soon to be 5 of us after all.
When I was growing up in Prince George (BC), during the winter time I seem to have ingrained in my mind that a place called Telegraph Creek always had the reported coldest temperatures during the nightly 6 o'clock TV news reports. It has been a place I have wanted to to go to ever since then. The road to Telegraph Creek is about 75 miles of infamous uncertainty so it was with some trepidation that some in the group face the next day with. But it was a glorious day and we all had blast even on the fresh calcium chloride being sprayed on the road to keep the dust down.
And yes we all made it all the way.
The best part may well have been at the store where we had a choice of day old rhubarb and blueberry pie or if we waited an hour, fresh out of the oven pie. Just as I believe that week old gazpacho is better than fresh gazpacho, day old rhubarb and blueberry pie is better than pie fresh out of the oven. And it damn near might have been the best pie I've ever had at the end of a 75-mile long dirt road, or anywhere else.
The day's ride finished behind the post office back in Dease Lake to get our bikes powered washed off of that nasty calcite stuff that can harden hard as cement.
Once showered and cleaned up it was time to check on just where Dean was - he has the same tracker technology I have. Once determined he was about an hour away we cracked open a round of beers (in Canada the plural for beer is beers), and waited while congratulating ourselves on the day's paltry 150 mile ride. Right on time Dean showed up so it was another round of beers all around as we oohed and aahed over the new bike - and his epic 1200 some odd mile ride to catch up with us.
After dinner (the White shack again because even though the Blue shack was open all the people were lined up at the White shack), it was back to the parking lot of the hotel to ooh and aah some more over the new bike. It was about this time that Ken asked while pointing at a vital connection point on the new bike, "Is that bolt supposed to be loose like that?". Turns out it shouldn't have been. After trying to reseat the bolt using every tool we could dig out of our tool kits and positioning the bike in all sorts of comprising positions...
Someone had the bright idea to make sure that the bolt wasn't stripped. It wasn't stripped - it was broken. Sheared off about a half inch inside the boss on the aluminum engine block. At that point there was nothing left do but have another beer and figure out what to do the next day.
There also was in addition one straggler who planned to join up with us at Dease Lake on Tuesday night with his tentative departure from the Seattle area early Monday morning - a 1200 mile ride over 2-days. Not only that, but Dean had already ridden up from Southern California in an equally short amount of time; through Bend Oregon because there isn't one of us who won't go the long ways when offered that opportunity. And did I mention that he was on a brand new bike? A 500cc Honda Swiss army knife of a motorcycle that he was shaking down in preparation of ridding next year's Globeriders Cape to Cairo trip - and yes, I am jealous. Monday morning we were all woken up very early as a text message was delivered to our phones from Dean: "Across the border and am now in Canada". It was 5:00AM early in the morning.
We had a beautiful day heading up Highway 37 once waking up again at more reasonable hour.
And the wildlife count escalated with every mile as foxes, martins, marmots, and more bears were passed doing whatever foxes, martins, marmots and bears do along side of the road.
After dinner at the White food shack (partially because it was supposed to be the best food in town but mostly because the Blue shack - the other food option in town - was closed), in Dease Lake we received the second message of the Dean: "In Vanderhoof for the night". A 600 or so mile day's ride. And with that good news we cracked open the second bottle of Scotch for this trip... there were 4 soon to be 5 of us after all.
When I was growing up in Prince George (BC), during the winter time I seem to have ingrained in my mind that a place called Telegraph Creek always had the reported coldest temperatures during the nightly 6 o'clock TV news reports. It has been a place I have wanted to to go to ever since then. The road to Telegraph Creek is about 75 miles of infamous uncertainty so it was with some trepidation that some in the group face the next day with. But it was a glorious day and we all had blast even on the fresh calcium chloride being sprayed on the road to keep the dust down.
And yes we all made it all the way.
The best part may well have been at the store where we had a choice of day old rhubarb and blueberry pie or if we waited an hour, fresh out of the oven pie. Just as I believe that week old gazpacho is better than fresh gazpacho, day old rhubarb and blueberry pie is better than pie fresh out of the oven. And it damn near might have been the best pie I've ever had at the end of a 75-mile long dirt road, or anywhere else.
The day's ride finished behind the post office back in Dease Lake to get our bikes powered washed off of that nasty calcite stuff that can harden hard as cement.
Once showered and cleaned up it was time to check on just where Dean was - he has the same tracker technology I have. Once determined he was about an hour away we cracked open a round of beers (in Canada the plural for beer is beers), and waited while congratulating ourselves on the day's paltry 150 mile ride. Right on time Dean showed up so it was another round of beers all around as we oohed and aahed over the new bike - and his epic 1200 some odd mile ride to catch up with us.
After dinner (the White shack again because even though the Blue shack was open all the people were lined up at the White shack), it was back to the parking lot of the hotel to ooh and aah some more over the new bike. It was about this time that Ken asked while pointing at a vital connection point on the new bike, "Is that bolt supposed to be loose like that?". Turns out it shouldn't have been. After trying to reseat the bolt using every tool we could dig out of our tool kits and positioning the bike in all sorts of comprising positions...
Someone had the bright idea to make sure that the bolt wasn't stripped. It wasn't stripped - it was broken. Sheared off about a half inch inside the boss on the aluminum engine block. At that point there was nothing left do but have another beer and figure out what to do the next day.
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