The Quarry Roads of Assam - Bangladesh + India x 2 - CycleBlaze

November 18, 2010

The Quarry Roads of Assam

a bus to Shillong from Badrapur

The teenage guy who took my money last night in the Internet place is now kneading small balls of cream-coloured dough, making them flat ready for the boss of this kerbside breakfast cafe to heat on a thick, round hotplate, creating a tasty paranta that will go nicely with the hot veg curry, thank you very much. I just wonder how many hours a day this youngster works.

Heart 0 Comment 0

It's only 7:30 and there's a coolness in the air I haven't experienced to date and the sun is invisible as I ride off, back past the now-deserted pond and the couple of other hotels in town and the fountain and as I do so a man cruises up from behind on his rattling bike and asks the familar 'where are you from' stuff in good English and invites me to his home close by for a cup of tea, which seems like too good an offer to refuse and so five minutes later I'm being introduced to his beautician wife and learning that they are Lions Club members and he's an engineer who prefers to cycle rather than drive his car.

Heart 0 Comment 0

He kindly gives me directions to where to head for, writing down on a scrap of paper there's a bypass of Karimganj to ride on to get to Badarpur today. That'll save about 10 km and after thanking him for his hospitality my wheels are again rotating north on a small provincial road that he leads on for a few minutes and which cuts out some of the busier 44 just to the east of us.

Mist hovers over the landscape and the sun is still obscured, yet it makes a slow appearance after about 30 minutes of riding, by which time it's getting on for 10 and I'm entering a village where I pause at an intersection to get my bearings and locals soon surround me and take turns using their mobiles to get snaps posing with Yours Truly.

Heart 0 Comment 0

The road delivers me to the 44 and into Assam State where there're perhaps 100 or more trucks parked in a scary jumble and I make my way past wondering what they're doing and notice that the tarmac that had been relatively nice and smooth in Tripura has deteriorated just like that and the path now is just so potholed it's a joke, one that becomes less funny as my bike jolts and thuds over the dusty rubble.

For many miles the surface remains crap and hopefully my pricey DSLR is OK in my saddlebag. Some stretches of the 44 are okay - maybe a kilomter or so at a time - but this is one of the worst roads I've ever ridden. There's zero blacktop for lots of it and trucks and buses that trundle by kick up wicked clouds of fine powder that lingers at head-height long after they've bounced into the distance. This is a disgrace to India.

Heart 0 Comment 0
Assam tea
Heart 0 Comment 0

At a police checkpoint an officer invites me to sit and have tea and laments that corrupt politicians are to blame for creaming off the funds that would make Assam more navigable and in his opinion Route 44 is as bad as it gets.

The countryside is mostly flat and farmed and the crops look nice in the sunshine. When I reach the fork in the road another policeman informs me this is the bypass to my right that goes around Karimganj and I ponder what to do: It's just a few kilometers to the town and its hotels, and about 15-20 km to Badupur, which seems doable as it's not quite 3:00 yet, and so that's what I opt to do. The sun is already low, but the tarmac is empty.

Heart 0 Comment 0
Heart 0 Comment 0

The surface soon disintegrates again and my speed is back to 10-15 km/hr tops, as I dodge the biggest ruts and keep out the way of any trucks and other vehicles. 

Heart 0 Comment 0

It doesn't really improve as I press on as best as possible, but I do make it there at about four and see two grotty looking hotel-cum-guest houses either side of the garbage-riddled main road, both of which inform me they're full, which is hard to fathom. It occurs to me they just don't want a foreigner in their place for whatever reason.

Heart 0 Comment 0

Then notice a knight in shining armour appears, which is actually an orange bus, and after asking for 'Shillong?' and getting 'Shilling' in reply my bags are soon in the hold and my bike is on top and 90 seconds later we're off and heading further north with around 30 other people.

Scheduling isn't something I've thought about and an English speaker aboard tells me it'll be midnight-ish when we finally arrive in Shillong, meaning something like 9 hours from now, and the packet of potato chips I bought as I boarded soon go as the bus jerks its way along the dusk-lit 44, which is in a terrible state, and I'm forced to sit on my seat as if it were a stool, holding the strap on the seat in front bucking-bronco fashion to reduce the spine juddering bangs as the wheels hit ruts and my mind questions the decision to get on this thing and whether my bike on top will survive such a bashing.

It promises to be a very long 9 hours. There's a dinner stop at 10:00, by which time a sense of resignation has descended over me and I'm feeling the low temperature dressed as as I am in my cycling shirt and shorts.

No one can advise about hotels being open in Shillong, a place that now appears to be still a few hours away. It's actually gone 1:00 AM when we all disembark into damp darkeness in who knows what part of the city this is and the trucks and buses that noisily go by add to the sense of confusion.

I dig out my Gortex jacket and ride along up a slope with the flow of traffic for a few minutes, but can't see squat due to the glare of oncoming headlights. It's worrying, so I stop and then notice a lane across this busy road that has a few closed-up stores which look okay for shelter and with the aid of my LED fixed between my teeth, my tent's inner gets unpacked and erected and my sleeping bag and silk liner slid inside with me in them soon after, still dressed in my dusty shorts not bothering to find my socks, which I bought for this occasion - it's bloody cold. 

As I don't have a sleeping pad the concrete base is as hard as concrete can be and feels chilled and it seems doubtful anyone could possibly fall asleep in such a place with the screeching and revving of the convoy of trucks only 5 metres away from my head, but that's what I eventually do. This is very non-stealth camping.

Today's ride: 95 km (59 miles)
Total: 789 km (490 miles)

Rate this entry's writing Heart 0
Comment on this entry Comment 0