The analogy with Tolkien’s worlds were setup midway through our ride when Ashish observed that some of the areas we rode through were barren, desolate and resembled Mordor in the books. Hence we longed to get back to The Shire at all times.
On 24th morning we set off from Panipat with the objective of halting overnight at Simla. That was one of the nicest rides we had in general. The first part of the day was spent on the highway with long stretches of boring straight roads, until we came to Panchkula (outskirts of Chandigarh). That’s where we got the first sight of the hills ahead. In our naivete we imagined riding on ahead later in the day through mounds of snow.
With great enthusiasm we rode ahead into the town of Kalka. This was my first time to the town that I have only heard from names of trains (Kalka Mail/Express, etc.) Onward from Kalka we headed to Solan, before we arrived at Simla. We came across quite some twisties and with the clouds rolling in and a fine mist in the air it was both heavenly when riding, and uncomfortable when we realized that the rain/mist had broken through our defenses and a lot of water was gathering in rather intimate regions of our anatomy. To grin and bear it, was what we chose to do. In summary, the ride was awesome. Stopping for a chai was as close to utopia as we’d get that day.
En route we met a bunch of riders who were headed to Leh. They were going to branch off just before Simla and head to Mandi and then on to Manali, Rohtang and Leh. We chatted around for a while as we stopped to take some pictures. It felt good to tell them that we were on our second ride — remembered the last time when we looked with awe on riders who were riding out for the n-th time on these roads. Respect to them. Especially the ones who do it solo. Time and again we realized that riding solo requires a level of mental toughness that is special. Riding in 2′s and 3′s is definitely an order of magnitude simpler. And while I mean no disrespect, riding in larger groups is definitely less stressful mentally than riding solo or in smaller groups. When you riding through desolate landscape, in fading light, not sure of the destination, in those times the sheer presence of other riders (even if they are as lost as you are) is a reassuring feeling.
Simla was a funny little town. This was my first time at Simla and I couldn’t get over how narrow the roads were. We negotiated through traffic easily by virtue of being on a bike. There was a heavy shower when we showed up and randomly stopped at a hotel to check in. So here’s the weird part. You park your bike outside the hotel, climb up about 10-20 steps, and come up to a smallish lobby with an elevator. You are now at ‘-2′ (basement level)! Then you go up to level 0 which where the main reception and lobby is. Our room was at level 2 above. If you take a flight of about 40-50 steps from the main reception then you end up in the adjoining street! The town is built on a hillside so buildings have entrances/exits at different levels. The last time I had seen this was in Hong Kong when buildings would open up into different streets at different levels.
The first thing we did after checking in was to attempt to dry our rain coats, jackets, shoes, etc. It was depressingly damp although the weather eased up later in the evening.
Having heard of the “The Mall” in Simla we decided to walk down. That was easily one of the weirdest evenings out. I wasn’t sure of the place and thought it was a short walk. So dressed in bright yellow trackpants and an old red t-shirt with a jacket thrown over, off I set off. Turns out that this strip is the place to hang out for tourists and the like. Well dressed for the occasion and all geared up. And here I was looking like a lout. When the Western tourists dress like louts in our cities they look smart. When we dress like louts we look like louts. Explain that!
So the first place we came across was Indian Coffee House. Seemed like a historical place and stopped by for a coffee. And then Ashish saw them serving masala dosas so we decided to try those too. Maybe we came in at a wrong time — the coffee was bland and the dosas sucked. The rest of our dinner needed a different source. So we continued walking for food. I was clear that I was done with South Indian for the day and that it was time I gorged on chole baturey.
The next place we stopped advertised North Indian, South Indian, Chinese, etc. etc. So we walked in, with my red t-shirt and yellow trackpants, and ordered chole bature. Halfway through our food Ashish notices that almost everyone around is having dosas of some kind. So we indulged ourselves in a gentle chuckle about the morons who come all the way to Simla only to have a dosa. Whilst we the real travellers enjoy the local food — chole baturey in Simla. Chuckle chuckle. The smile on our faces lasted the rest of dinner until we walked out. Whereupon we noticed a little plaque highlighting that this place was rated the Times 2010 best South Indian restaurant in Simla… or something to that effect. So we had basically eaten south Indian food at the worst joint and north Indian food at the best South Indian restaurant. Oh well!
The plan for the next day was to find a Royal Enfield mechanic that could fix our bikes. I still needed mirrors and Ashish’s bike needed some work on loosening the accelerator. He also had trouble starting the bike each time. Turns out Simla’s Enfield dealership had a joint right outside our hotel. However we had to ride back 5-6 kms to the main shop to get the stuff we wanted. Around 11:30 we were all done and ready to ride on. Destination for the day — Rampur.
The road to Rampur was a lot more nicer. Full of twisties. First experience with bad roads on this trip. Gravel and loose stone. Sheer drops on one side. Experienced all of it during the day.
The highlight was the first views of Sutlej. The river is mean! Not sure if it was due to the season or some specific weather event, but the river was brown and carrying a lot of mud. Watching the river from close was a scary sight. The thought of being in the river was terrifying. All the river we have seen in Pune was the Mula-Mutha. The Mula-Mutha was a dripping tap in comparison to the torrent that was the Sutlej.
