Srinagar to Delhi
The time at Dal Lake was spent visiting carpet factories, being ferried over to the Mogul Gardens and just generally relaxing. The more energetic went horse riding at Gulmarg and even did a day walk in the mountains, I was just glad of the chance to recover from my brush with malaria. The food was OK but they did use duck fat to cook in and it is not very nice when you get fried eggs served on a cold plate and the fat has set before you can eat it. Toast is always safe the only thing you can do is burn it and burn it they did. You could smell it even before it arrived, they toast it over open coals and managed to cremate it everyday. The toasts comes with jam, Kismet Jam, its sweet, orange in colour but doesn't taste of anything in particular, not unpleasant just perplexing as the tin says its made from fruit but not what fruit. I have a sweet tooth and fell in love with sugar coated walnuts, they have a soft coating, a bit like icing and you can have plain or chocolate coated, they were both to die for. Most of the passengers bought stuff here, leather coats, jewelry, wood carvings, some were having things shipped home, I settled on a nice carved coffee table that would look great in the house I didn't have.

Houseboats Dal Lake

Dal Lake

Sunset

Mogul Gardens
We extended the stay by one day which was voted for by most of the troops which gave us a good break the best one on the trip and set us up for the run through India to Nepal. The morning finally arrived for us to depart and much as we tried to get away early all the extra packing and last minute deliveries delayed us till 10.00am. The run back down to India is not so bad but it is down hill and we can't push the brakes too hard. Kashmir became one of my favorite spots and its sad to think of all the trouble it has seen in the last 30 years, Cindy and I went back in 1992 but were ambushed by gunmen on the way up and spent a terrifying night laying on the floor of a taxi, it will take a lot of peace to get me back. Geoff drove down and we made good time, he stopped at a small place were the bus had pulled up on their way up, he promised me the best omelette I had ever tasted. It was cooked with a little green chilli through it and served up with pipping hot chappatis and hot chai, a meal fit for a king. I always stopped there after that no matter what time of day it was, never did know the name of the place. We made camp that night near Pathankot in the Punjab.

Kashmir in full swing
Today we are off to Delhi via Jullundah, Ambala, Karnal, Panipat then Delhi. The Punjab is know as the rice bowel of India and its flat fertile plains are green with all manner of plants. Large bullock or Buffalo carts creak along the roads loaded with produce they are always in the way, holding up traffic and never travel fast than a very slow walk. Just before Ambala we cross into Harayana State, there are sometimes toll post to collect duty from trucks bringing goods from one state to the next. Tolls for bridges, tolls for river crossing, they always cause a long tail back and often the fee is as little as 5cents it hardly seems worth all the confusion. The cow is holy in the Hindu Religion, hitting a cow on the highway is considered worse than hitting a person. They belive that their ancestors are reborn as cows and for them you have just killed a mother or grand father. The unwritten rule of the overland was that if you ran over anything just get the hell out of there and put some quick miles between you and the incident. You can see on TV how crowds will run riot smashing windows and setting fire to property on the strength of a rumor. Give them a tourist bus killing a cow and you can never predict the reaction, safer to not hang around. Cows are allowed to wander anywhere, they are not looked after and have to rely on anything they can find to eat, you will often see them going through rubbish looking for food.

Water Buffalo
The only real use I saw being made of cows was in the Punjab where dairies had been set up with an outlet by the road serving milk to tourist. They had flavoured milk and ice cream which was a real treat on a hot day. We were making good time to Delhi even though we had stopped 3 times for milk, and kept getting stuck behind slow moving trucks. In many spots the road is very narrow not even wide enough for two vehicles to pass with out putting the near side wheel of the bitumen. The trucks would play "call your bluff", as they approached they would sit in the middle of the road giving you the impression that they were not going to move an inch. We did the same and as we got closer and closer it looked like we were going to hit head on till at the last moment we both pulled over dropping the near side wheel off the road and squeaking past with our mirrors missing by a whisker. Coming up behind a slow moving truck required you blow your horn time and time again in the hope he would pull over enough to let us past. One particular truck refused to pull over he just went right to the edge of the road and slowed down. He got so slow he was doing less than walking speed and we still couldn't get past. Geoff had had enough of this he hopped off the bus ran up beside the truck and pulled the drivers door open. At this the truck came to a halt and the driver got out, Geoff hopped up into the cab and pulled the truck off the road, the driver did have a sense of humour he shout to Geoff keep going to Calcutta and pointed up the road.

Indian Tata Truck
Just before Delhi we pass into Uttar Pradesh state and hit the outskirts of the city. This is a big city with traffic to match, traffic lights are virtually ignored, buses are loaded to the point of over turning and pedestrian walk amongst this mayhem as if they had divine protection. Add to this the peddle rickshaw and you have chaos on a grand scale. You have to drive as if you mean it, if they suspect you are wavering you are lost and everyone pushes in front. Keep moving and keep blowing the horn, nudge the odd peddle rickshaw out of the way, let them know you mean business and things go along swimmingly. We came in through Old Delhi past Chandni Chowk the Red Fort and the Jama Masjid Mosque before passing through Delhi Gate and pulling into the Tourist Camp on Jahaharlal Nehru Marg. This was a haven for overlanders, the park was full of all types of vehicles and you could hear a vast variety of languages. Campervans, cars, small buses, converted trucks, they were all here, some looking like they were on their last legs. The conversation at the cafe was of roads, cities, hidden temples, ashrams, tourist bungalows, everybody had a story to tell. They do egg and chips and I lapped it up, not so good for Geoff when his arrived it had the taste of onion. He had asked for no onion, well there wasn't any but the taste was still there. He sent it back and ordered another one, same story, so he disappeared into the kitchen to have a word with the chef. The next thing I saw was Geoff standing over the chef while he scrubbed the fry pan till it shone, even then Geoff supervised his meal untill it was on the plate.

Peddle Rickshaws
The trip continued
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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.