Run to the train station as we only have 15mins pre scheduled departure. Identify to the ticket counter two to Pathankot and he provides one ticket. Confirm for two and he nods, not enough time to confirm further we hustle for the waiting train. The train carriage is made up of numbered facing seats single on one side of the corridor and bench seats on the other with luggage rack just above head height following the bench seats, behind every facing set is a divider so effectively compartmentalising the seating. The windows have either security grill or window, given the window seat occupants choice. Five other people are in our compartment at this time. I am concerned about being thrown off the train or fined bakesh should the ticket only be for one. Deciding to confront if forced try and snuggle into Soph for some warmth.
By the time we near Amritsar I confirm that the seat numbering really does have no relevance. Their are now closer to twenty people sharing our compartment, with butt space a premium, two guys sleeping in the luggage racks above and people sitting on people. No fear of ticket inspectors, good luck to them if they could clamor over anyone. Uncertain of location, but confirmed when the hoard disembarks we step out onto the station at Amritsar.
Decline the numerous rickshaw offers to the golden temple we find a large hall like veg dhaba. Food ok and staff keen. Decide to grab a rickshaw to assist in speeding up finding Express freight group (DHL) we head towards the nearest landmark per Sophs mud map. Gandhi Gate. Again old dude. At Gandhi gate we have no success in identifying Queens rd bar pointing back towards the railway station. Decide to check out the golden temple to achieve one thing whilst waiting until the advertised opening time of DHL being 10 am.
Arrive at the Golden temple complex after passing some beautiful wooden buildings in the old city. Two ways to identify tourist location, beggars and stalls selling memorabilia and temple offerings. Met by tourist police who direct to Punjabi Tourism desk, who provide genuine assistance and some free maps. They confirm tout recommendations that the beanie doesn't meet the head covering requirement and that I would require a handkerchief on my head, Soph could use her pashmina. 10rup for a handkerchief so could be more painful. Unfortunately my head is on the fat side so the bandana tied handkerchief is very tight and I must be looking scarier then normal.
Down to the shoe holding set up where we exchange our shoes in a very official setup for a coupon. Along some carpets, through a foot water bath and then into the complex proper. The complex is massive and architecturally something combining Persia with Indian Raj, even with a couple of minaret looking buildings and a large single Hindi symbol hanging suspended at one end of the complex. Looks very Arabic in styling. The marble, pool of flat water and golden temple in centre is very serene even with a large crowd circling the water pool. Sikhs turbaned, adorned with holy knives are in large numbers making the scene even more striking. There are even a couple of Sikhs with full swords and non shoed mustached, turbaned guards holding spears. Quite a few Sikh men are getting redressed having bathed in the water. Dad would fit right in as hairy seems to be the fashion.
On reclaiming our shoes we worked our way around to the Barrista chain. I have a headache and not sure whether it is from the coffee withdrawals after the luxury of good coffee in Mcleodganj or the early morning. Guard opens the door, you know you are going to pay when that happens. Still also more of a guarantee regarding toilet facilities. Coffee is so so in a very lavish environment and wifi down, but the music entertaining and environment quiet with large windows out onto the old city. Definitely a retreat from the bustling streets...feels a little surreal.
We catch another rickshaw back to the Grand Hotel which is also on Queens Rd. The rickshaw deposits us three buildings down from the Dhaba where we had breakfast. It has been one of those mornings... We use foot falcons to investigate further and lap the Street four times declining numerous rickshaw advances and taking several local directions. It does not help when no street sign or numbers are evident. Finally we spot a DHL sign high on a building and are directed up some narrow black marble stairs to a branded DHL office. Success..
Unfortunately after an hour and a half of enquiries and one cup of chai it is confirmed that they are unable to freight the package. Big bummer.
We walk depressed back to the Railway stand to grab a taxi to get us back to Pathankot quickly. Haggling out the front we secure one for 1200rup for the ride at the union taxi stand when everyone else is at 1500. We take it and are directed by a turbaned Sikh to a clean, smart looking Tata with intact working rear view mirrors a good sign.
We head out of town past many western chains buried amongst the multitude of Indian businesses and industry clusters. On the side of the road we pass a group of Sikhs in royal blue turbans and white pants, mustaches and swords / knives. The tax driver identifies that these Sikh men are Fully Sikh. That they are strictly veg and do not drink alcohol amongst other things. The road here is planned for expansion to four lanes. Some trees on the sides had been marked with white paint, apparently the govt had contracted out the removal which occurred within three years of planting. Which is kind of incredible as these eucalypts ( among others were huge).
We weave and overtake heading out of town and dart and dive through traffic, pedestrians etc etc. Initially at 25-40 km an hour but increasing to 50-70 km out of town. Initially it is novel but after a while every duck or section where we seem on a continuous game of chicken it scares the pants out of you, to put it politely. This chicken wasn't just the overtake in the other lane around one car and dive back in, it was overtake around three trucks, force a couple of motorbikes onto the side and than dive back in before incoming bus which was already angling for the side. Like some crazy roller coaster ride the pit of your stomach is tested continuously. All the time our taxi driver is explaining that not all drivers are as good a driver as he and that others should be making way.
Pass our first driving altercation with the sound of crunching metal and light coming from a car next to us coming too close to the truck next to it. We had been slowly working our way up to a rail crossing which had converted our single lane into a three lane squeeze to try and get through the congestion. Again without any real sign of road rage but with all the lack of patience that would precipitate it. The guy driving the crunched car just made for the side where he jumped out inspected the damage before jumping back in. Not sure how insurance works over here. It was not uncommon before rail crossings for the roads to become really rough, if not comely unmade. On enquiry our driver identified these as the equivalent of a speed trap, they were relatively effective. Hard to drive fast when the road was crud.
It was great asking questions as we are heading through for if no other purpose filling the quiet moments between weaves, head ons and breaking. Both of us got out of the car thanking that we were on bikes, but also thinking if all drivers were like this the aspects of driving potentially occurring behind us as we ride, but were not seeing. Better the devil you know?
On the road we passed plenty of trucks, the scariest one was one that had a black shoe hanging from the front grill. We hope just a good luck charm rather than the remains of an unfortunate victim. We also cross the rail line and a man made canal three to four times on the way. The size of the canal which looks clean reinforces the water access of these agricultural lands.
Back in Pothankot the rush is on to pack up our gear and head to Chakki bank train station allowing sufficient time to try and check in our bikes, rather than having to dismantle the bikes and then reconstruct at Haridwar. We still have not showered since last night nor eaten since breakfast. The guys at the hotel give us back rd directions which has us at Chakki bank with about three hours to spare. We roll the bikes onto the station and down to checkin. The bikes can be checked in but require packaging, which includes a covering of hessian and a destination sign on the front. We tip the packer for his assistance. There are motorbikes and large containers also wrapped in hessian.
A little latter we see a man rush pushing a hessian bound motor bike towards a train that though having had stopped, is now once again rolling away from the station. The train slowly gains in speed regardless of the calls. We see the resulting argument very soon afterward. The event does not raise our confidence in the system, nor does the check in staffs fascination with the bikes which includes fiddling with the gears etc. We therefore camp very close to the bikes. I pack up Bob into our hiking pack cover and fill the space with various bits and pieces, meaning that we only have two backpacks, two panniers and Bob to carry on board.
The train is delayed as is the proceeding train. It finally turns up nearly two hours late. We jump onboard and notice that the compartments have six bunk beds, bottom, middle and top and similar to the train this morning on the other side of the corridor a further two bunks running length way to the cabin. There are full length curtains so that you can curtain off either side of the corridor. It is pretty cosy especially once the luggage is also packed into the bunks. The ticket inspector comes through and then an attendant who hands out blankets and sheets. We settle in for the night and initially the movement is a slow rock.