Shivardan to Agonda via Chiplin and Arambol

We left Shrivandhan on 26th November with a new plan and a bike that was running perfectly. Because we had stayed four unplanned nights in Shrivardhan and also because we wanted to get to Agonda in Goa with enough time to have a week in the sun before returning to the UK for three weeks, we decided to stay on and enjoy the coastal route for one more day. Then, so we could make up some time, we would rejoin the highway hence get to Goa in less time. Riding the highway option was not appealing but lying on Agonda beach for one week was. At least we had another ferry journey on the coastal road.




At least this ferry was a bit more orginised and it had a ramp to drive onto it as Colin is expertly doing.

All parked up and time to stretch the legs.

So glad they were selling chai on board, even if it was the smallest cup in the world. The cup looks stupid in Colin's large hand. One sip and it was over.

Ferry journey over and time to disembark.

The road from the ferry to the village wasn't all that great.

We stopped in a little village called Dapoli  to buy some water. It looked really peaceful.

 

 

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We rode until we had had enough and stayed in a place called Chiplin. The following morning we headed off and crossed over the border into Goa. I think we experienced a whole onslaught of emotions -  pleasure, joy, disbelief, relief but a real sense of 'we made it' 3500kms, no previous motorbiking experience, no mechanical knowledge (even though Colin thinks that gaffa tape, zip ties and ill-fitting spanners count as mechanical knowledge) and a road map of India which bore no resemblance to the roads we were on. Our goal was still to get to Agonda in South Goa but we felt we were home and dry.The following morning we left Arambal and headed off to Agonda and our friends there.

Shrivardhan and the Lambe Holiday Inn

The Lambe Holiday Inn was a nice place to stay, which was just as well as we ended up staying there 4 nights. Although Shrivardhan was a nice little place it didn't take long to explore, so at least we were able to just lounge about in the resort. The bike, as expected, was a bit of a saga. 

Firstly someone important in the village died so everything was closed and no one was allowed to work. Then we were told that a manifold couldn't be found locally and we would have to get one sent from Mumbai. The mechanic was excellent and he arranged for a manifold to be put on a bus in Mumbai and collected it from the bus station. While we were waiting for it to arrive he was tinkering with the bike - cleaning things up, tightening things and even fixed all the electrics. 

When the time came to pay the bill we were thinking it was going to be a fortune as he had spent so many hours on it. When he asked for rps 1000 with parts, about £12, we couldn't believe it. We tried to give him more but he wouldn't take it and said he had really enjoyed working on the bike 

While waiting on the bike, Colin certainly never had a problem lounging around the resort. It was actually full most nights with Indian tourists having a few days break from Mumbai etc. Everyone was very curious about us and I have never been in so many photos - everyone wanted to take one of us. We have invites to stay with people in Mumbai, Pune and other places inland. True to Indian people, they are so friendly, although they did think we were bonkers riding a bike 3500kms rather than being driven in an A/C car.

A wee cosy snooker table.

Govind was a Nepali guy who worked in the place and was really helpful and friendly. He did most of the work around the place looking after the guests and serving food. The food was excellent and cooked freshly each day by a local woman. She would ask you in the morning if you wanted meat, fish or vegeterian for lunch and dinner. You never knew how the meat, fish or veggies were going to be cooked but they were always excellent and tasted different every day.

The sign on the room doors, however every evening you were asked if you wanted something from the bottle shop! If so one of the staff went into town on his push bike and got it for you.

Word was out in the town that two foreign tourists were around and we had many locals come visit us. One was a guy who had an enfield and who had heard we also had one, came by to see us one day for a chat. He was so proud of his diesel enfield and was delighted when we told him we had never seen a diesel version before.
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Bike fixed we finally left Shrivardhan to continue our journey. We were relieved to be leaving so we could complete our journey, but also sad because we had had such a nice time there.

Royal Enfield mechanic in Shrivardhan

Shrivardhan is popular with Indian tourists as there are lovely beaches close by. Hence there were a lot of nice places to stay. We chose a small resort called the Lambe Holiday Inn . We really wanted somewhere quite nice as we suspected we would be staying there for several nights - you don't have to be in India long before you realise that nothing is ever straight forward.

 One of the staff new a mechanic and he called him for us. Later the mechanic came and informed us that he wasn't a mechanic but liked enfields. With no other choice we said he could see what he could do. The first thing was to get the bike to his 'garage'. There was no way the bike would start again so he said he would tow Colin. It was towing, Indian style. Colin got on our bike and the 'mechanic' got on his bike which was behind ours. Next thing he revved up his bike, put his foot flat against the back of our bike and drove to the garage. He was effectively pushing Colin down the street in front of him rather than towing him behind and no rope required.

The 'garage' was a higgledy piggledy tin shack on the beach and the idea of actually reaching Goa on the bike was diminishing. The thought of having to courier the bike from Shrivardhan to Goa, after having made it this far, was disappointing. However when the mechanic opened the shack door the optimism returned.

He had a 1962 English built enfied, which had been his grandfather's, and which the mechanic had restored. It was in mint condition. He explained that he only ever worked on enfields and we knew that the bike was in very good hands. Anyone who could restore a bike to this condition certainly knows what he is doing.

The engine was gleaming.

He quickly dismantled our bike and told us that, among other things, the manifold had cracked. We had the manifold replaced in Pushkar and were assured it was an original part but we were duped.

The ferry from Murad to Dighi

We arrived at the ferry port in Murad. Not your typical looking ferry port, it was a maze of stalls selling food, soft drinks, the usual trinkets and of course the coconut  wallah . But the post held a few surprises.

Firstly we were told that we had to drive the bike down this ramp and then quickly turn right as, if you go straight on, there is only a small stretch of road then you hit a low wall and it's off for a swim. Believe me the ramp was a lot steeper in real life than it looks in the photo. Even without me sitting pillion, the bike with Colin and the bags weigh 280lbs. There was no way I was going to be on the bike when it was being driven down the ramp and I didn't want Colin on it either.

Lucky for us one of the ferrymen took it down for us as he also seemed to be doing with the other passengers with bike. 

When the ferry came in I went for a look at it. I soon realised that there was no ramp to drive the bike on to the ferry.

The second surprise then was having to manually haul the bike onto the ferry.There was a lot of huffing and puffing going on.

Halfway on.

Just about there. Colin now looking on quite anxious as his pride and joy is getting tossed about.

Bikes secured on the ferry - hopefully. Our bike is the only one were the seat is held together with gaffa tape.

Leaving the village of Murud behind.

Indian tourists taking a boat to Murud Janjira, a fifteenth  century fort on an Island just off the coast of Murud.

It's quiet spectacular when you see it from a distance.

Unloading the boat at Dighi Port. Colin is just standing shaking his head at the prospect of having to manually carry the bike off again.

At least I was prepared with the video to capture the bike getting lifted off. Look at Colin's face when they finally get the bike off. I don't know if it's a look of wonder or relief but it sure is comical. Make sure the volume is up and you'll hear the effort being made.

If the look on Colin's face had been one of relief, then it was short lived. The bike was sounding really rough and when we were going uphill it was losing power. It was still early in the day and we had several hours of driving still to do but the bike didn't sound like it was going to go much further. We checked the map and seen that there was a small town called Shrivardhan not that far away. We decided to head there, find a room and then look for a mechanic. Colin managed to nurse the bike there and we found a really nice place to stay. Then the bike just died.

Leaving Alibag and on the coastal road

We left Alibag and soon hit the coastal road again. After the Mumbai bypass it was glorious and there was very little traffic on the road. Being a boat lover I was looking forward to the day ahead as the coastal road involves taking several ferries and we would be crossing on the first one today.



It wasn't long before we could see and smell the sea air again.

We crossed many bridges.

Seeing rural life again was good.

This young lad was desperate to get his photo taken. He was very proud of his wheel barrow with working wheels.

We passed through sleepy villages and towns.

Were nearly at the ferry.

Daman to Alibag

We left Daman on 22nd November to continue our journey to Goa. It would take a few days and, as there was no-where between Daman and Goa that we planned on stopping for a few days, we would just ride each day until we had enough and then find a room for the night. Our main priority was to get off the main highways and onto the much nicer coastal route. First though we had to navigate the dreaded by-pass around Mumbai. The road turned out to be as bad as we thought - very busy, dirty, polluted, noisy and certainly full of unpleasant odours. Finally we got to the end of it and headed onto the coastal road.

It was getting late when we finally pulled into a town called Alibag. It was also getting dark and we don't like to ride at night, especially as none of the electrics on the bike had been working since we left Vashisht - no lights, brake light or indicators but the horn worked and that is really the only thing that is essential in India. Here people don'y pay attention to brake lights or indicators and using them often causes confusion. But it's not a good idea to drive at night without lights even though many people here do it. We were really filthy and knackered after the bypass drive, Colin especially, as you literally need eyes at the side and back of your head and 100%+ concentration on many Indian roads,

It was 7pm before we managed to find somewhere. While the guy was off getting a key for the room his elderly mother came out and stared spouting off the guest house rules, two of which made me apoplectic. One was that the cost had suddenly increased over the last minute and the other was that we couldn't have any water for a shower until morning. I couldn't stop the temper tantrum that erupted from me. We marched out of the place and were back to square one - nowhere to stay. Finally we found somewhere and all we could do was have a wash and fall into bed. The following morning we carried on our way.

Daman

We arrived in Daman to a sunny afternoon. Daman is a seaside town (although I wouldn't rush there if I was looking for a nice beach and clear blue sea) which caters to Indian tourists. After two weeks in alcohol free Pushkar - with the exception of our bad karma bottle of whiskey - and a few days travelling through the State of Gujarat, where the whole state is alcohol free, we were looking forward to a wee dram in Daman. Daman was ruled by the Portuguese for four and a half centuries until India took it back under rule in the 60's. Hence, not only is alcohol available, but like Goa it's tax free and the cheapest in India. Party time.



 We had to find a room first so we headed to The Marina Hotel . We had read about it and it sounded wonderful. It is a restored and converted 150 year old Portuguese-style house and looked beautiful inside. Unfortunately we wouldn't be staying there as it way exceeded our budget, but it looked like a good central place to park the bike and go in search of some budget accommodation. Luckily we found somewhere right across the street. It might not have been as nice but we had a balcony that looked over onto it, and we could dream.

Although Daman feels and looks more like an India town than a Portuguese town you can still find old houses reminiscent of the Portuguese.

 

 

 

 

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We stayed in Daman for two nights because it really was an interesting and bizarre wee place. The photos of these Portuguese aren't representative of Daman as a whole. These houses were situated down the quiet side streets whereas the main streets looked and felt like an India town. Turned out we weren't the only ones there to party. We hadn't considered the fact that that Daman is an alcohol oasis bordering on an alcohol desert. So as well as happy fun-loving Indian tourists, they're were the ones that crossed the state border just to go on the binge. The main street was like the OK Corral. Men were being thrown out of bars onto the street and the street had plenty of 'dead people'  lying there that would hope that they really were dead when they woke up. Luckily we had followed the Hotel Marina's philosophy of being on a quiet street off the main road but near to the beach. We knew then that it had been a good hunch to park up at Hotel Marina and then find a room off the main drag

Pushkar to Daman via Uddipur, Ahmedabad and Valsad

After a week of thinking I was dying in Pushkar I felt ready to remove my ear plugs and sunglasses (I had worn these 24 hours a day while I was lying in the room, as I couldn't bear any noise or light) and get back on the bike to continue on our journey. An extra week and few days in Pushkar meant that we had to get some miles under our belt to reach Goa on time. Although we still did have plenty of time we had to factor in the possibility of another unplanned delay on route. 

We had a vague plan of heading towards Mumbai and then, rather than driving through it, we would take the by-pass around it - if we could find it. It was going to take a few days to get there so we planned on riding the bike each day, until we felt we had had enough, and then find somewhere to stay in the nearest town. The first night we spent in Uddipur. We had originally thought we would spend a few days there but our delay in Pushkar meant we only spent one night there. It was the first time that I had been to Uddipur (Colin has been many times before) and I wished we could have spent a few days there as it is a truely beautiful place and would loved to have hads time to explore it. At least there's always next time. The next night we stayed in Ahmedabad and shortly before we arrived there we crossed The Tropic of Cancer. The next night we stopped in a place called Valsad

The next day our plan was to go round the Mumbai but Bal Thackery a prominent right wing politician died and amazingly the whole of Mumbai shut down - shops and businesses closed, public transport stopped and unbelievably the streets of Mumbai were deserted. The hotel manager told us that there were a lot of road blocks so probably not safe to take that route. We couldn't stay another night in Valsad as it was a hell hole so we had a sketch at the map and found a small seaside town not far from where we were. We decided to head there and hole up for a few days until the Mumbai situation returned to normal.

We left Valsad on 19th Nov and headed to Daman. We were on a six lane highway with great road surface condition and were flying along. The road wasn't busy but we still had to keep our eyes peeled as very often, even on these main roads, traffic comes straight towards you on the wrong side of the road. Imagine that on a motorway back home. 

As we were driving along I spotted a big sign for MacDonalds. Not a place we would normally go to but after two weeks of vegeterian pushkar, even a MacDonald's burger sounded like meat. As I pointed it out to Colin I realised we had already passed the exit ramp to get to it. Oh, no problem for Colin though. He just spun a u-turn on the six lane highway, drove down the entry ramp to the highway and pulled into MacDonalds car park. Not one vehicle on the highway or on the entry ramp paid any attention to us. Colin rewarded himself by eating two MacMDonalds meals. He said he deserved it after his ingenious, skilled motorbike riding! I couldn't resist a photo with the main man himself. Full stomachs, we continued our ride to Daman.