Let's go hiking

7 – 9 May 2019

Following my unsuccessful first stint at trying to volunteer, I managed to round up the volunteers and one of the hosts to do a hike.  Having lugged all this hiking gear to India, I felt I might as well put it to use.  Everyone was keen, and the host had an easy hike in mind, which he thought would be a good introduction to hiking (or trekking as they call it here) in India, also considering we would be trekking at altitudes upwards of 4000m.  With us not having any meaningful opinions to contribute, and all wanting to do some exploring, we agreed to follow him blindly.

Travelling to the hike presented a slight problem.  One volunteer and the host get travel sick, and we were (as we were soon to learn) in for quite a bit of travelling.  It was decided (for us, owing to the aforementioned blind following) that they would travel on his scooter.  The other volunteer and I would take public transport. 

No problem, we thought.  However, as we realised what leg 1 (of what was to be many legs) was, we thought, ok, maybe a little problem.  Firstly, the hostel was about 1,5km to the main road, where we would need to catch a bus.  We had to walk, with all our bags.  Sad face.  Anyway, we made it to the main road unscathed and full of all the joy and wonder and energy that a new adventure brings.  Though, after an hour of waiting for a tracker to pass that would pick us up, the joy, wonder and energy levels began to fade. 

Blissfully unaware how much travelling
we have in front of us

Look at all the transport available

In broken English, the locals told us that it was wedding season (it was a Monday morning) and therefore all the trackers would be full of guests from other main cities, travelling to all the weddings that were taking place now (on a Monday morning).  We knew there was a bus in about 45 minutes, but thought to try hitch a ride to the next city – Chamba, as it was only about 45 minutes away, and if anyone is travelling on this road, it really only leads there.

It was worth a shot, while waiting for the bus, and surprisingly one of the first cars we tried to catch stopped.  This could have been because of the Swedish girl I was travelling with... Ok, let’s not kid ourselves, this was the reason.  In an event, we hopped in and this very nice man took us to Chamba.  We chatted a bit, but his English was poor and our Hindi non-existent, so we rode mostly in silence.

Arriving at Chamba, we got onto the first bus that was announcing that it was going to Rishikesh (yes, grrr, Rishikesh again, my nemesis).  That bus then kicked us off, because they decided they were no longer going to Rishikesh (I mean obviously, who the hell would want to go to Rishikesh).  So, we got on another bus.  This driver, obviously resenting that he was going to Rishikesh, stopped several times and got out the bus, seemingly reconsidering his life choices each time.  And when he was driving the bus, he made sure to hit every bump and uneven surface, to put everyone in the appropriate mood considering our destination.  What was a pleasant, 2-hour ride coming to Chamba, was anything but leaving.

Now you may be thinking, Ryan, why are you giving Rishikesh such a hard time, come on man, it’s not that bad.  Not that bad?  Not that bad, you say? 

So, we arrive in Rishikesh in the afternoon – too late to catch another bus, and I need to withdraw money.  We meet our travel buddies, who have found us a place to stay for the night.  I put my stuff down, and see an ATM right outside our accommodation.  Yay, I think.  No, not yay.  This is Rishikesh, so obviously this ATM is not working.  Our local friend that we are travelling with knows of another one, so I hop on the back of his scooter and we drive 10 minutes out of town to the next ATM (there are others in between, but he already knows that are not working – and have not been working for a long time).  I arrive at one, where there is a queue (because there are very few working ATMS in what is a very cash-based city).  He leaves me to wait, while he runs a few errands.

Queuing in an orderly manner in India is a luxury at the best of times, so I did my best to stand my ground, and was doing quite well to repel line cutters.  I was patiently waiting for 45 minutes while each person took their turn.  Note, there were not 100 people in the queue.  Either the ATM, or the ATM-user was very slow. Anyway, there I was, waiting patiently, and I get to the front of the queue.  Yay, I thought.  No, not yay.  A very drunk, very dirty rat pushed his way through and went into the booth ahead of me.  His poor, dirty, rat karma though immediately rubbed off, as after bumbling through the process, the ATM decided it had enough for the day, and stopped working (in the middle of his transaction – hah, take that you ass).  However, this had the unfortunate consequence of all of us who were waiting to also have to leave, empty-handed.  Rishikesh isn’t that bad hey?  Wait in a queue for an hour, after driving out of town, to only get to the front and have some drunk buffoon break the machine.

What was the best part of your trip?
Queuing 45 minutes for an ATM?

We had to drive another 10 minutes, further out, to another ATM machine, to withdraw cash.  When we made it back, it was dark, so we went for dinner, and settled down, to ready ourselves for another long day of travel, and more legs, to get closer to our destination.