Hilli & Beyond via Sura Mosque - Bangladesh + India x 2 - CycleBlaze

December 3, 2010

Hilli & Beyond via Sura Mosque

into India

A cute small terra cotta pot of yummy doi after my traditional Bangladeshi breakfast makes an excellent start to the day, and an early one for a change.

There're few people and practically no vehicles about at 7-ish as I ride north up the main road that cuts through Palasbari, not that I stay on it long. After a few minutes I make a left, down a small dirt road that meanders and takes me east, south and who knows where. 

Route
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There's no real goal for me and I'll just see where it goes.

As yesterday, I like the idea of finding Sura Mosque, which my Nelles maps shows as a 'star' attraction. It's not mentioned in the Bradt guide, so I know nothing more. 

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When a teacher stops on his bike and tells me it's near Ghoraghat, which I went through yesterday afternoon en route to the hotel - about 10km distance - I wonder if that's actually true. This doesn't tie in with the map. He seems sure, though and is super friendly.

The smooth mud path takes me by a small river. It's incredibly peaceful here. No motor vehicles at all and perfect cycling material, which makes me recall posting a request for info' about Bangladesh on the Cycling Plus forum months before coming and someone replying that it was the worst country they'd ever toured.

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My guess is they came in summer when it's ridiculously hot and when it rains like you simply can't imagine. Or, perhaps they followed the standard guide book itinerary, which highlights spots such as Cox's Bazaar and Sundarban. 

The former is right down the Dhaka-Chittagong Highway. A nightmare! It's the world's longest beach. A big beach; a lot of sand. So? And as for Sundarban - it is a huge mangrove swap where tigers live and is only accessible by boat. Both unsuitable for a cycle tour.

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This here mud path is where cyclists should come in Bangadesh; this and a gazillion like it - rural back lanes where life hasn't changed since... well, I don't know. 

I pass through tranquil bari after bari consisting of mud and bamboo houses with thatched or corrugated tin roofs; cows clad in sacking - it is a bit chilly this early. 

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Children get excited when they see me; older villagers look on with curiosity and when I stop to take a snap, are incredibly hospitable and welcoming. 

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There's a language barrier, but that's easily bridged with gestures and simple words and photos. People love photos. Being on a bike helps. They inspect it, so very different from their robust, black-painted steel bicycles, if they are lucky enough to have one. Most just walk... barefoot.

I end up on a raised path running along by the river and it has trees each side that give shade and make it like a tunnel and lend a feeling of calmness. Fantastic. The river meanders and so do I. There's hardly anyone around.

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At one spot there's a boat going across, but by now I've decided to get to Ghoraghat and am making my way west, towards India. My visa expires in two days and this little canoe-boat with its three passengers including two with bikes doesn't go that direction, so on I ride and not long after there's another boat, very similar. 

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However, this one coming over is full with people and bikes and a couple of overloaded rickshaws and it does lead across to the path towards Ghoraghat... not the way I cycled yesterday, obviously. That was on tarmac.

Everyone gets off and it's full again quickly and that includes me for the ride back over the river that is slow-flowing. The fare is five taka and the wooden craft has a bamboo deck that's flush with the top edge of the hull. 

Everybody stands. There's no motor or oar - the boatman simply uses a pole and punts like he's on the River Cam in Cambridge. It's a slow ride, peaceful and the other passengers discuss me, of course, and I take a snap or two. They're chuffed to bits. 

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Once off it's a shin-deep paddle in the muddy water to the shore and my cycling sandals get soaked, but I don't care.

Once in Ghoraghat I hit the busy road, but soon stop there near the main  junction for a mango juice and get told that a few kilometers north up the straight tarmac is a left turning to the border town of Hilli and that the Sura Mosque is on that route. These people are probably right.

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Fifteen minutes later, it's great to find the Hilli road is very quiet with more trees spaced down its sides, which the sun shines through to make shadows across the uneven surface. 

Around 9 km along the road, Sura Mosque looks a gem. It's small and built with red brick and dates to the 16th century. 

Sura Mosque
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After my sandals are off, I step inside. It's wonderful. There're a few Muslims sat reading. The domed ceiling makes it feel spacious and sunlight floods the floor from the narrow, glassless windows.

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Then there's some more peaceful riding until I eventually stop to eat the three oranges bought after having that mango juice back at the junction.

 There are rickshaws trundling up and down, and the odd bus. Each side is countryside of harvested rice or whatever. I'll miss this.

The border is a bureaucratic time-waster and a master class in how to waste paper: first military check points, then customs, then immigration. 

Each side of the border is obsessed with forms and loves writing down details. My father's name - yet again. Really? There are dusty ledgers on shelves... stacks of them. Who reads this crap? No one, I bet. 

Eventually I wheel my bike across the railway lines that cut across a patch of no-man's land.

The Indian officials are somewhat thrown by my Brodie and keep calling it a 'motorcycle'. Does it need a carnet they discuss, and telephone calls are made to superiors. Twerps. 

I guess I'm the first cyclist they've had at Hilli - one guy tells me they see one foreigner a month here: max. It is quite out of the way

The whole process takes around an hour and it's almost three when I get free. 

There are 26 km to the nearest hotel, in a place called Balurgat, so I press on down the tarmac route there. 

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It's badly potholed and dusty at first and I just make it as the sun dips out of sight, finding the Mona Lisa Lodge that an Indian custom's guy had told me about. 

It's been a long day. I'm in a different country now. My dongle doesn't work.

Today's ride: 55 km (34 miles)
Total: 1,331 km (827 miles)

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