Let’s do the time warp

Time, as I’m used to has stopped. The familiar handles are no longer there. Rowing on a Saturday morning, shopping on a Friday afternoon, making pancakes for Juliet on a Sunday morning or coffee on a Monday morning as I say good bye to Juliet as she leaves for work. All of these hooks give structure and rhythm to the passage of time. Chunking life up into manageable parcels. 

On the road time is about today and the road ahead. I live hour by hour, peddle turn by peddle turn. I never come back to the same bed, nor do I see the same road. I have hills to climb and rivers to cross but never in a predictable sequence. The only anchors are the rising and setting of the sun. Time has turned into an endless conveyor belt of tiny revolutions. No start, no end just the turning of wheels.  All sense of how long I’ve been on the road gone. There’s road behind and road ahead. Days of the week forgotten in my new world that is cycling in India. 

Arriving in Goa after six hard days from Mumbai I start to feel a real sense of achievement. I wasn’t really sure how long I’d been on the road thinking maybe six weeks, but on checking realising that it’s only five. Over 2,000km and 22,000m on the clock. And in that time I’ve shed around 10 kilos in weight and I’ve become a lean scrawny 62 year old cyclist. Hardened by the road that tries to grind me down.  At times nearly getting  the better of me as the roughness of the road shaking and rattling my bike, resulting in an extremely sore arse. On one or two evenings so sore I could hardly sit down. My inner voice telling me no more.  

Looking back I have put aside the mental and physical challenge and think about all the wonderful people I’ve met along the way. At the dark times enough to keep me going. 

A couple of days ago, well into the afternoon, sweating liberally, I stopped  at a shop to get some water, ice cream and take a few minutes break. Sitting there, a colourfully dressed young woman came over to me and started talking. She then invited me into her house to make a prayer to Ganesh as it was the start of the festival. Like many families they had all come to gather to celebrate, she back from Bangalore where she’s studying for an MBA. Her father had spotted me and told her to invite me in. I felt truly humbled by the kind offer to a grubby cyclist, to be part of their celebration. After saying my prayer, her mother gave me some Modak. Sweet coconut filled dumplings. It really made my afternoon and helped put perspective on my journey. 

The following day riding, through some leafy lanes, I passed a man walking. As I was going up hill he caught me up and over the 5 minutes that we spent together we had a wonderful conversation.  A policeman from Mumbai, down to celebrate the Ganesh festival he has an 18 year old son who’s into data science. He keeps fit by walking and doing Pilates. The conversation a real tonic as I sucked in his positive energy and joy. 

Later on, nearing Goa, I stopped at a roadside shop to get some water, in the heat it’s not uncommon to go through 5/6 litres a day, after I paid and sat down a man on a motorbike turned up. The shop keeper curious about me asked the usual questions. Often that’s as far as conversations go. On this occasion his wife came out and told me that she was catholic, she’d worked in Dubai for a number of years for a British family and she told me of their kindness. They send her Christmas letters every year which she brought out to show me. It was lovely to see. 

Apart from the people the cycling has been beautiful and varied. One minute swooping down lush green roads to flat beaches lined with coconut trees. To another minute climbing steep hills, sweat pouring from the surface of my body. Or crossing the numerous rivers. Sometimes across a bridge, at other-times by ferry boat. On one occasion I had to whistle to a very small passing fishing boat. Gesticulating to the fisherman he turned into the sore and the  gave me a lift across the river, charging me 100rps, but ending up with 200 as neither of us had change. On one had a complete rip off, but I was very happy to pay as it save me a very long detour and he was very happy with the outcome. 

My job for the next couple of days is to eat and recover, before I continue my journey south.  I’ve already had two breakfasts and will go and find some lunch fairly soon, even though I don’t feel hungry as I know I have very little fat reserves from which I can draw. 

I am about half way to Colombo in Sri Lanka in terms of cycling distance. At the start of the journey the high passes and altitude of the Himalayas my biggest hurdles. Now it’s the heat, humidity and rough roads.  And above all making sure I get enough varied food to keep me going. As a diabetic I have to shy away from much of the highly processed food that’s available on the side of the road. 

As I leave Goa the conveyor belt, will inexorably take me forward from one adventure to the next and I know life with adventure is never boring, always unpredictable, and above all fun.