Amritsar to Srinagar
We left the station and caught a taxis down to the local Youth Hostel before visiting the Golden Temple, the most holy site for the Sikh religion. Most of the passengers were eating in a small square just near the temple entrance. Geoff and I found a beer shop and drowned our sorrows in a large bottle or two of Kingfisher beer. What will Norm say when this gets back?, We did it for the right reasons but shit happens sometimes. Rodney and I saw some of them off on the bus to Kashmir, then wandered back to our shabby room at the Hostel. For me it was time to turn in but Rod wanted to talk over the case strategy. I was in the plead guilty and pay up mood but he wanted to put on a show. He got some large pieces of paper and started to write up a plea. Next morning while the passengers went sight seeing Rod and I went to a local Solicitors to ask if we could look through their Law books on previous case,s so we could present a defence against the charges. It meant little to me but Rod seemed to be enjoying the notoriety. He drew up a paper ( page 1 - page 2 - page 3 ) that would be read to the court in my defence, then we made our way to the court house ready for the 11.00am hearing.

Golden Temple
The court was full of smiling faces with lots of introductions and hand shakes, you would have thought we were there to receive an award. It was all over quite quickly, our argument was not accepted and after a bit of "yes your honour" "no your honour", I was fined US$100 which when paid, would release the bus from the police compound. I handed over the money and after a few more bits of paper, rubber stamps and signatures we were free to go. It took a while to round up what was left of our passengers before heading out of town in the direction of Jammu via Gurdaspur, Pathankot, Jasmergarh & Sambu. With only about 5 hours of daylight left I thought we could get to Jammu which is really the start of the Kashmir region, from there onwards the road is mountainous and dangerous. We hadn't gone far before I felt tired, I barley had the strength to turn the wheel. This was going to be a long day for me and tomorrow didn't bear thinking about. We finally camped in low hills about 15 miles short of Jammu at about 1000ft above sea level, something that would be unthinkable today for fear of terrorists. I went for a short walk to get some air and try and relax a bit and had only gone about 100 meters when I noticed a familiar looking plant by the roadside. On closer inspection it was Cannabis, not just an odd plant but a whole forest of it stretching out along the road on both sides. It was just growing wild, I thought if this was England it would be a race between the hippies and the police as to who could get there first!

Cannabis Satavar

Indian English at work
The road to Srinagar is spectacular climbing and falling as winds its way around the mountains, getting ever higher. Our route today would take us via Chinehi, Ramban then to the Banihal Pass at 9290ft and on to Awantipura before entering the Srinagar Valley at 6210ft above sea level. We were soon into the mountains with the road winding left and right and a sizeable drop into the valley below. I was finding turning the wheel difficult, I just didn't have any strength and had to keep stopping for a rest. We devised a new system, I did most of the work but one of the guys gave me a hand pulling the wheel on the tight corners. It was a bit hairy at first but we soon got into the swing of it and were going well after about 20 minutes. This made the journey easier for me and we were making better time. This part of the world, was and still is a war zone. The Indian and Pakistan armies stare at one another across the "Line of Control" a cease fire line that sees the Pakistan army in possession of parts of Indian Kashmir. Both countries have lots of troops stationed in the hills and on the Indian side, army convoys are a part of life. The first sign of the convoy was a few military jeeps that came speeding down hill towards us, followed by a string of trucks that went for miles. Most of the vehicles were empty but several had soldiers coming down for a rest from the cold.

The road to Kashmir
We had been passing the convoy for about 15 minutes, us going uphill, them coming down, they made a continuous column each one only a few feet behind the next. Our speed would only have been about 30kms per hour as the trucks rolled past, then in the blink of an eye a sheath of straw appeared between the trucks followed by a dull thud. We had hit something and I had that sinking feeling that this was not going to be pleasant. A women had been trying to cross the road and when she saw a larger than normal gap between the trucks she just ran straight through it and into the path of our bus. Her body lay in the road like a discarded child's toy. Within a minute or so a military jeep appeared and an officer quickly assessed the situation, he spoke to some of the truck drivers who must have confirmed my account of the incident. We were to load her body into the bus through the back door and lay her on the floor, then follow him to the next village. On arrival he spoke to the local official who agreed that it was the woman's fault but I should pay the funeral expenses. A figure of 500 rupees about US$20 was agreed and we were free to go.

The winding road to Srinagar
I have never forgotten that incident and the low price of a human life. I often wish I could have made my peace with the family but it may have made things worse for them. I had been so looking forward to Kashmir but now I wish I had never heard of the place. We had an early lunch just before the Banihal Pass which marks the highest point on the road at 9290 feet, before travelling through the Jawahal Tunnel and entering the Srinagar Valley. This area is famous for its willow cricket bats and crocus flowers that produce Saffron. The run through the valley was very peaceful and inviting and we were all looking forward to catching up with the other passengers and spending a few days relaxing on a houseboat. We had booked boats with Jimmy Dubloo and his family on the Cherry Stone, Young Cherry Stone & New Australia, with others staying with Mohamad Alikadli on the Bendemeer & New Bendemeer. As the others had arrived the day before ,they had the pick of the boats but Jos and I got good quarters on the Bendemeer. As soon as the bus pulled up Shikar's (a small local boat) started appearing from everywhere, Jimmy was already there when we arrived having got a call that we had been seen entering town.

Srinagar Valley
We were soon ferried across and made to feel comfortable with large pots of tea appearing as if by magic. No sooner were we settled than the Shikar Wallers appeared. Anything you want is floating around the lake on a boat, just stand on your boat's balcony and shout "Tailor" at the top of your voice and in no time a man is at the door offering to make jackets, dresses & shirts. When new people arrive they are fighting one another to get in the door with wooden furniture, jewellery, painted boxes, sweets & all the everyday things like toilet paper and soap. You also get the "you want hashish, mandrex, Benzedrine". If you know the name of it they will find it for you. It was the only point on the trip were we said you can have your hashish or what ever, but it does not come with you when you leave. These boast are quite something, dating back to the time of the British Raj. This was where the English came to escape the summer heat and these boats are pure 1920 - 1930 era. You enter through the small balcony at the front directly into the sitting room which has wood panelled walls with large sofas and chairs and turn of the century sideboards and coffee tables. It was like going to visit your grandmother.

Houseboats
The sitting room lead to a dining room that could seat about 8 -10 round a large wooden table. From there a passage lead down one side of the boat off of which the 3 or 4 bedrooms were situated. Each bedroom had its own shower & toilet, even if they did flush straight into the lake. Duck was a common part of the menu, I was glad to be a vegetarian as you could not be sure what the ducks had been dining on the day before. The family lived on another less glamorous boat just behind and could be summoned at anytime to produce tea and biscuits for any guest who may pop in. Geoff and I sank a few Kingfisher beers on the balcony while Jimmy made sure the shikara's kept away, partly for their safety as Geoff was likely to throw a bottle at anyone who got to close. This was peaceful and was just what I needed after the day from hell. We had brought a few bottles of wine over from the bus and were intent on having a good meal. We could relax as the bus was safe, Jimmy had arranged for a Chokidah (watchman) to sleep under it while we're here.

The sweet man
The trip continued
An overland journey to India following the India overland trail through Belgium, Germany, Austria Yugoslavia, Greece, Turkey, Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan, India, & Nepal. Visting sites of Dubrovnic, Split, Kotor, Athens, Kerimoti, Istanbul, Galipolli, Troy, Delphi, Efes, Goreme, Nemrut, Tehran, Esphan, Persepolis, Shiraz, Kerman, Bam, Quetta, Kandahar, Kabul, Bamian Valley, Kyhber Pass, Indus river, Lahore, Punjab, Amritsar, Kashmir, Delhi, Agra, Taj Mahal, Vanaris, Patna, Raj Path, Kathmandu, Himalyas. All this undertaken in a 20 year old Asian Greyhound, Swagman Tours, LS Bristol bus. This Indiaoverland company was held together by Norm Harris an expatriate Aussie living in Windsor. With drivers like Bob Ashford, Geoff Lawrence, Clive Parker, Dave Watt, Ronnie Martin, John Witchard, Ken Mcdonald, Derek Amey & couriers Fred Fisher, Jos Livingstone, Peter Swift, Kieren Smith & mechanics Gordon Hammond, Graham Libby, Pomme John & Rastas just to name a few.