A little bit of uncertainty as to the location of the ferries as they relocate location depending upon height of the river. Almost hunt the ferry as Niron spots a local land cruiser in front and similar to a rogain the following continues on the basis that they know more than we do. Climb up onto a large dyke like dirt wall upon which the road continues. Part of the large Bogibeel construction which is building a road and rail span across the river. Larger than the current bridges, the largest of which is the Dispur bridge, around 3kms in length.
Success as spot vehicles up on what appears to be a raised bank ahead. Treacherous mud crossing to make it across, but no issue thankfully. The guys have been bogged before. Small shack stalls line the side of a semi protected water harbor created by grass covered sandbanks sitting just above the current waterline. In the water the ferries, but not front loading barge like ferries... small wooden river boats with higher prow, pilots house and stern. The middle deck of the ferry is flat for the vehicles. The bank has been cut to create a ramp down to the water and a combination of planks reinforced with bamboo lengths bridges the divide to get the vehicles onboard. An anchor sits on the bank at one end and one sailor holds a rope at the other releasing and bracing it to allow the planks to be gradually shifted along the length as the four vehicles load. Each one creates a slight sideways rock as they board, barely centimeters from the end of the vehicle to the side of the boat.
Pouring rain so we hang out under the cover of first one of the tea tents and then in the cabin of the boat just below the pilots cabin. The smell of diesel pervades the whole space making it a little claustrophobic and that was just with the four of us. As the cabin started to fill up more and more with people and luggage the feeling only intensified. Soph quickly got cabin fever and so we relocated to the back deck above the engine and behind the smokestack but in front of a small bathroom and equally small galley.
The engine comes to life as the boat crew push off from the bank and remove a large can from over the smokestack. The boat slowly turns, it's nose to the bank before starting to chug out of the natural harbour. A pretty young girl in front of us holds a coin to her forehead before throwing it into the water, then repeats the process on the other side of the boat. Still no evidence of the far bank lost in mist and cloud off the water. We turn angling upstream toward the lone pillions of the Bogibeel bridge, sitting lifeless in various stages of construction. A guy climbs over the top of the lined up cars to reach the toilet near us, too afraid to try and edge around the front of the cars as the staff do, holding onto the occasional bumper bar as they lean back. Draft low lying sand and grass islands for some time before entering the main flow of water. Little water whirlpools forming as we pass.
Eventually the far bank comes into sight just as the dark rain clouds above us end their slumber and the rain and the wind return. Most of our rear deck company vanishes, some into the kitchen, some the toilet as we opt for our raincoats and lean into the still fine angled rain. The boat having crossed the main flow picks its path into another harbour, naturally carved by the mouth of a tributary before again pulling up alongside a ramp cut bank. The process again of loading the cars begins in reverse as passengers scuttle out of the rain across the planks and under the chai tents by the waters side. Soaked by the time the final car is offloaded but feeling good for the experience we dive back into the cover of the jeep before driving off in search of the main road.
On the way we pass settlements of Mising people with thatched houses on stilts and their long dark wooden open canoes by the river side. Girls in saffron bright saris walking on their way to a celebration at a village further along. The pot holed link road climbs up to Mishim and joins a comparatively very smooth NH 52 from which we turn heading towards Along, hills still in the mist. Initially we zoomed along the highway missing our turn and unintentionally heading towards Pasighat, so smooth was the road that we covered ground quickly having eventually to backtrack for twenty minutes or so to the ambiguous junction with SH105.
One of the things we really wanted to do before coming on the trip was to follow the Brahmaputra back to where it becomes the Siang then up towards the boarder where it emerges from the mist shrouded Himalaya out of tight canyons. In Tibet dams are currently also being built along the river as it is then known as the Tsangpo. Unfortunately the road north of Pasighat and South West to Along (or Aalo as signed) is known to be not very good. International rafting expeditions come up this way for Class V rapids.
Stop for lunch at the Nova Palace in Dhemaji before continuing along the thin and occasionally rough road to the Arunachal Pradesh border check post of Likabali where the guys sign us in to the West Siang District. Old weathered tourism signs look kind of out of place given the additional permits required. The drive then begins in earnest as we again climb through the tropical watershed that is the first range of mountains off the flat plains. The sides of the valleys rugged with vines, banana palm and small trees sticking to the sharp angles. Water cascading from watercourses down under and over the road, some fine mist others gushing torrents.
Road remains quite thin as we push to the side allowing oncoming trucks to pass. Apparently some of the long army convoys as a result cause quite a delay if encountered. Start entering Adi country the most notable change beautiful verandahs with angled sides similar to the Newari houses in the Kathmandu valley but bamboo and thatch versus wood and red brick. Like something out of a romanticised Hollywood Robinson Crusoe. Slash and burn paddocks but on lesser angles then the Northern Naga.
View back down towards Brahmaputra or would be if less cloudy. Prayer flags though fluttering in the wind. Pass Garu village cascading sliced bamboo pipes from streams for water. Misted layered mountains looking like the backdrop set of some theatre production. Pass an older man returning from the fields and using a traditional Adi raincoat, woven thatch like a large over turned scoop under which the body with the exception of the legs and feet are shielded from the weather. Woven Dao sheath hanging across the back. Drop back down to a river valley and Dali before passing through Basar and it's Shiva temple.
Cross the Siyom before driving up into Along. The streets now darkened before pulling over outside the Hotel Aagaam in the Yubo Complex, Nehru Chowk. Dinner in the attached restaurant before quiet night.
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