Vibrant valleys (Tuesday 31 May 2011)

Peaceful night. Showers on and off. The other guys obviously enjoyed the Rice beer a bit too much as they have slept in. Grab subji and puji for breakfast at a small restaurant in the middle of town before a quick check of the Myanmar trading stores. Kids in various uniforms heading to school many with brown clipboards or over the shoulder red satchel bags, most personalised in stitch or colour. Drizzle starts as we roll out of town. The road has not improved in the past day and big puddles of water are lying in the road ditches.

Clouds and mist covering most of the valley denying a leaving glimpse of the three folded mountain on the opposite side. Instead focus on the water cascading down side rivulets and water courses. Villagers working in the fields in the alternating heavy then light rain. Some with home made rain jackets made from plastic sheets tucked into either a head wrap or basket head strap. All the guys with dao sitting in wooden holders tight against their lower backs. Climb and fall around to water crossings. One or two steep gradient warning signs.

At Saddle, appropriately named, we take the right junction heading back to Tuensang.

From Nagaland, May 2011

To our left sections of green bared slopes naked in comparison to the hills just left behind. Again past the road side rock quarriers, more active at this time than when we last past and no safer. Piles of varying sized blocks to our left on the edge of the drop off. Neeron honking the horn to ensure there is a temporary stop work as we pass and given the occasional small boulder rolling down this appears a very wise precaution.

Drop down into Tuensang, road crews going about what would be an increasingly tough job now that the rains have once again started. In town stop for petrol opposite the Nagaland Dept of Transport office before returning through town and dropping down past the old village on the State Highway. Hit new tar and it feels almost like heaven given the past three days driving. Still single lane but consistently coated. Looks a little like a black river running through the green especially given the sheen of water across it's top. The occasional mid road collapse through to a drain or erosion section below marked by branches stuck in the hole.

Drive through Tobu, for some reason all the stores in town as we pass have been boarded up. New looking house with shining tin roof and wood walls, but the verandah incorporates older style of flattened rusty biscuit tins for side walls. Road now following a river valley but still from high on the valley side. Drop down to the river the road becoming rougher and rougher as we descend to the point that it starts to feel like semi serious offloading at times. Driving through cleared fields on the slopes with large green stalks of maize growing a little more densely sown than yesterday. Once on the semi flats pass terraced rice fields full to their allocated height of water. A line of kids working happily in the brief spot of sun sowing green stalks of rice. Across on an metal plate bridge before climbing past the road crews back up the other side. Pass a guy walking down and he has some bamboo tied across his stomach. Tieso identifies that it is to help hold back hunger until back from the fields in the evening.

Stop in a small village for lunch at a small signed Rice hotel. Skip the fish curry which is more fish than curry. Small river fish whole served in the water they were cooked in. Fish just aren't my thing. Meet the locals whilst wandering town waiting for the rice to cook, invited for tea at the other hotel in town. First, meet sister of owner then wife all bearing children, then friends, then father in law, then a slightly crazy yet happy little man who appears delighted to have met. The girls pay him out as he attempts to repeat the phrase "i not speak any english" as schooled by the others. Meeting all whilst sipping black tea and sitting on a floor squat in front of the hotels open fire above which hanging pieces of pork slowly cook was quite the experience. Declined the rice beer when offered in a separate mug. Bit too early and long drive yet to go.

Continue to drive up through the villages of Angjangyang and Longching to where the view to our left shows the river valley below opening up. Hills on the sides a little less steep and river flats at the base a little larger. The road again starts descending on again off again sections of smoothed tar passing small hill side watercourses gushing with water as the rain continues to vary from heavy to light to pause. Large logs of cut timber by the side of the road we enter the lower section of Aboi and a well signed road junction before climbing up into the main town sitting on a single hillock by itself. Through town and down the other side back to the rice fields. Now 5.30pm and group after group of villagers returning from the fields. The girls and women carrying baskets laden with a mix of tools firewood and or greens, following the principle of always bringing something back up to the village. The guys bamboo lengths, tools or rifles on their shoulders. Cross the river twice, at the second crossing the river has become a high rippling mass of water moving quickly. On the opposing banks wall an exposed coal seam.

Again the road climbs back up but the tar has become better and now with the fading light less villagers on the road edges. Pass through darkened Mon dropping down on it's far side to our accommodation for the next two nights at Helsas. Set on the side of a small bowled valley in traditional Konyak thatch and bamboo houses. Geckos and mosquito nets both present; must be sitting a little lower then the past few nights. Fireflies zipping around in the sky above. Dinner in, as pre prepared and the best dry fried chicken I have had ever. Served with oodles of rice, yellow dal, potato and cabbage. Too much for two people, especially ones who have sitting in a car all day.

International trading (Monday 30 May 2011)

A little bit of a sleep in before breakfast in downtown Noklak. Soph off wandering taking photos. Have picked up a local guide (our red lipped smiling guest house caretaker) as recommended by the police for the trip across to Pangsa and the Khaimungan tribe. Out of town past school children and quickly ascertain that this might be a rough ride. Much of the road compressed dirt post rain lots of mud a few areas quite deep and a challenge to get through, though Niron does fine.

From Nagaland, May 2011

The road heads deeper into the valley switchbacking around cascading water and past dense sloped jungle. Rice paddies down on the occasional flat or terrace below and the odd slash and burn paddock with sown maize.
A few mithun wander on and off the road, rapidly climbing the steep road edging as we approach, like ginormous mountain goats with massive flat heads. Our local guide points at a small hand sized bird on the side of the road and once we stop madly chases it in an attempt to catch it. Appears quail like as it does not take to the air as it zips from side to side as pursued. Disappears into the undergrowth below the road as does our guide only to appear later still grinning but disappointed. Could have been dinner.

Continue along and spot our target high on the opposite valley side in a light mist. Apparently still quite a way to go as the road continues toward the end of the valley before crossing the river and climbing to the town. Below a small weir which our guide identifies as a fish farm project, one of the reasons the road had been extended up the valley. Along the road side a vibrant pink purple flower similar to a cactus flower growing wild. Mithun breeding paddocks with bamboo fencing and step ladders over carved from logs. Two guys and a dog who are identified as going mithun hunting. Apparently though living wild they have been semi domesticated with the help of salt. Once a potential owner has fed the mithun salt apparently it is zealously loyal and will not allow another person near it. Ownership flows through maternal bloodlines, with roaming male mithun being independent.

Cross the river and come across a couple of guys with maybe six dogs on a variety of leashes some like a dog catchers but with long stems made out of bamboo. The guys on their way to Mon via the short track to sell the dogs for dog meat. Apparently dogs bought from owners, not rounded up from the wild and the bamboo is used to stop them chewing though the leash. Wild dogs are bigger. Neat little oval woven basket on closer inspection containing a chicken. Packed lunch. Well not quite, just a convenient carrying method, for the owner that is.

Road climbs from the river still feeling like a four wheel drive test trail through increasingly wooded slopes before we pass some thatched grain sheds on the edge of the village called Pangsa. Pull over just in town and walk down to a large morung where an older guy is working bamboo lengths into thread that can be used for basket weaving. In the morung behind him a huge log drum with neatly carved mithun on the fore section. Our local guide chats with a couple of people and before we know it a small drum troop have been gathered to give us a demo. One guy keeps the beat and the other guys maintain his pattern. Sticks are used to pound rather than to beat like an ordinary drum stick. The sound reverberates both in the space and across the valley below. Post finishing we hang out for a while before moving back up to the road above.

From the road we head up into the higher side, most people out in the fields but enough floating around to say hi to. Kids very shy. Mithun skulls hanging above most doorways, a few with smaller skulls, no human skulls. We discussed this with Teiso and apparently post Christianity gaining wide spread adoption by the Naga pretty much all the skulls have been given a burial. Some only as recently as last year.

Enter another morung, apparently one per clan in the village. This one also impressive log drum but outside an inverted wheel strut from a plane planted in concrete. The concrete has been dated 1947. Apparently quite a few war relics are still turning up in the hills. One location just across the border called the "lake of no return" is rumored to contain quite a few aircraft as the lake covered with green was mistaken by a few pilots as a safe put down point in the sea of dense jungle, only to realise too late.

Across from the morung we enter a house where a very shy and embarrassed young mother is threshing rice. Over a large wooden bathtub sized log she is pounding with a long rod rice still in it's pod in little indents to break the outer layer away. This process then followed by a sorting flick using another wide opened basket to separate the husk from the rice grain.

Back to the car before heading further up the ridge in search of the official international trade centre at Dan to see whether anyone is doing business. We meet some kids chasing things in the grass. Turns out they are these flying ants which are a good source of fats once fried up. The kids appear to be having a great time catching them. On the way up we pass a guy with satchel walking back from the fields in the increasingly heavy mist. He is identified as the local political interpreter, one of which is appointed in every town. Voted by the locals based upon respect and correct fit for the role it is a position of authority. He knows where the trading centre is but we are advised to take him also due to possibility of encountering Myanmar boarder patrol, one of which he met just recently. So continue on now with three guides, one driver and two tourists.

The road up to the Trading centre turns in and out of Myanmar. Our new guide mentions that he met the relatively local border troops from the other side a week or so back. Wonder whether they will check for visas or not if we meet up. The white out has well and truly rolled in as we park outside three sheds, two open roofed sheds on either side of a clearing and a long walled shed but all locked up. The local guy identifies that markets are held in autumn / winter so not surprising. Apparently the trade is mainly clothes from the Indian side and precious stones from the Myanmar side.

Back in the car and driving off I notice something moving on our political interpreter's back. Closer look and notice it is a small crab. Bugger.. There are crabs in the grass up here, and I was only looking our for ticks and leeches. Point it out to him and he is not that surprised, turns out he has a bag full of them on his lap that he bought earlier. When we get back down to his house we are invited for tea which turns out to be with the whole family in his packed mud kitchen. Smoke drifts up from the open fire and out the door unfortunately straight past my eyes. Not sure I would be any good in this kitchen.

Whilst waiting for tea and watching Soph try to entertain the kids playing on the far bed, we are shown first a homemade double barrel shot loading rifle followed by a couple of Japanese government Rupee notes from the second world war. From reading these were given to the naga by the invading Japanese army sometimes for food, but they were effectively worthless. Asked if I know what they are worth but unfortunately no idea on the spot. Tea served and drunk whilst watching chickens and naked children run through the house and listening to the rain fall on the thatch roof above.

Invited to come and have a look at the local Mission school set up only in the last year or so and meet the local teachers. The girls both naga are thrilled to see us. They ask us to stay and have tea with them in their room attached to the end of the school building. They've been up here since the school started and are kind of sweet. Starting to feel so isolated that when ever they hear a vehicle they can't help but rush out to see who it is. When they want to go anywhere they have to organise a vehicle from Noklak, plus the road is not all that great so it takes time. Leave after some fervent prayers said concurrently for our benefit.

Drive back to Noklak is fairly eventless bar that the road slippery this morning is even more mush after the days rain. Back in town we again head up the hill to the caretakers for dinner. Great day, could hang out in this area longer quite easily.

Battle of the tennis court (Friday 27 May 2011)

Complimentary breakfast at the Orchid then up to the War Cemetery just above the hotel. Having a car / driver is fantastic but we have found that as a result we drive everywhere that before we would have walked, might be fat by the time we get home.

The war cemetery we notice when we enter the driveway to the carpark is meticulously kept by the Commonwealth, with terraced lawns and flowers planted beside each of the low marked graves. Initially semi keen to visit as we did not come looking for stories of war nor the cemeteries that they create, but wandering the rows and terraces and reading the names, ages and short two line obituaries from loved ones the history felt real and the loss fresh. It is a strange feeling as many people die everyday having lived lives of value, having left loved ones behind, having struggled with personal challenges and yet they blend unknown in history. War for what ever it's political reasons leaves human scars of living deeper than ordinary life.

From Nagaland, May 2011

The Second World war battle of Kohima as we later read further at the War museum at the Kisama Herritage Park was a battle initially planned as little more than a disruption by the Japanese of the English supply lines and support of positions in south east Asia. The Japanese had already decisively attacked the then British held Burma forcing the British and Indian contigents garrisoned there to retreat westward over the river Chindwin and into Indian Naga country. The goal of the Japanese attack was to acquire the Imphal Kohima road from where progress could quickly be made to Dimapur and the stores held there. Imphal was also the location of the only airfield in the densely rugged jungles and the British commander, a General William Slim, was planning on basing his defensive line from there.

The Japanese committed the 31st division to the plan sending men through jungle that was considered impenetrable to circle in on British positions in surprise. One location was Kohima where the British had a garrison of both combatants and non combatants of about 2500. The Japanese commenced their attack of Kohima on the 6 April 1944. It quickly turned into a war of attrition being fought on the ridge in the middle of the then small Kohima centered around the District commissioners residence and tennis court. Crazily at one stage the Japanese were dug in on one side of the court and the British on the other exchanging fire for two weeks across little more then a few meters.

The Japanese lacked supply lines having pushed through the jungle carrying only three weeks supplies and the intention of restocking from the British. Unfortunately for their plan they were held at Kohima and with the onset of the monsoon many men died of starvation and malnutrition. The battle of Kohima lasted until the 22 June with losses of 4000 British/Indian troops and 5000 Japanese. Further many Japanese men are believed to have died on their retreat eastward.

The Japanese army included some platoons of Indian nationals who had joined with the Japanese in the hope of achieving independence for the Indian people from the colonial British. Similar support had been secured for the same reason in Burma by Burmese but I believe that much of this support soured once the invasion had actually occurred and the reality of the then Japanese focus had actually been seen and felt.

The Naga during this period supported the British as they were seen as more engaging with the tribal people than the Japanese who often forced themselves on the Naga for food. As a result the people acted as ammunition porters, stretcher bearers and scouts for the allied forces. Many Naga had not seen nor heard planes prior to the Second World war and thought that they were too far from the rest of the world to be effected. Unfortunately this proved not to be correct.

We inherently value life and whether as an initial result of adventure seeking, patriotism, mateship, duty these men gave theirs in action, for wrong or right in terrible conditions for others. Two Victoria Cross medals were awarded to two soldiers buried on the ridge. One main plaque in the cemetery reads "When you go home tell them of us and say for your tomorrow we gave our today". So for Corporal Smith, 24 years of age when he died, from the Royal Norfolk Regiment, I would like to share what a Florence wrote as his epitaph, "to the world you were only a part, to me you were all the world".

Following our time in the cemetery we drove along the Kohima - Imphal road to the Kisama Herritage Park where after spending an hour or so in the war museum, which is well laid out moved further up the hill to the Herritage Park where there are traditional tribe Morungs and houses spread across the hillside. The Hornbill festival, Nagalands largest is held here annually in early December. A rock concert also at the same time.

Back to town in the rain and stop in South Kohima on a high point to see the Cathi drill as pronounced by Tesio all day. Tesio has great english, sometimes better than my own so we had been pondering over this one for most of the morning. I even promised a beer if it turned out to be an internationally used term. It was only when we got to the top of the hill and saw the sign that we both said almost simultaneously ahhh Cathedral.

The cathedral is huge and quite fittingly the outside and inside beams resemble more a fancily shaped aircraft hanger than a traditional church (of which there are many around here). This seems to make sense partially because of the location and also as Japanese survivors committed funds to it's construction. Inside the space feels and is huge, with seating capacity of 3000 all is lit in daylight by a large stain glass wall above the alter showing the episcopal dove. On the walls behind the alter large mosaics which are fantastic with the last identifying the churches interaction with the early naga. The pulpit and altar incorporate Naga symbols in their designs. Outside brass plaques of the Stations of the cross lead down the hill toward the front entrance.

Through afternoon post school traffic and meticulously uniformed students into town. Quite a range of people patrolling from Traffic police, to normal police, army and paramilitary (the IRB - Indian Reserve Battalion ex separatists or nagas who are seen as sellouts by the remaining factions like Khaplan, as a result when the two happen to meet things can apparently turn nasty) Lots of guns for a place that feels no different to any other hill town. Pizza (sadly disappointing) at the Dream Cafe whilst the rain and thunder increased outside or at least we were able to order once the power came back on. Headed onto to a cyber cafe where we had fifteen minutes of startup time, five minutes of emails and than the power dropped out. Back to Hotel Orchid greeted by staff and then settled in for the stormy evening.

Squeaky clean (Thursday 26 May 2010)

Semi awake at 5 something but my mind thankfully allows a sleep in of a further hour or so. Still feel full from dinner last night. Beds have been great thanks to comfortable mattresses. Mango and banana to start the day, from the markets last night, before wandering the streets looking for good chai. Locate one place further along Kohima Rd, but notice several more on the way back. Opposite the small restaurant a large police station also signed as Womens cell and Anti human trafficking centre. According to Teiso, when we questioned him later on, there has been some history of both Naga and Tea tribe women being either coerced or forced to other locations and nasty situations. At this time in the morning little traffic other than auto rickshaws like a swarm of little yellow and black noisy beetles all yellow and black, going about their business.

From Nagaland, May 2011

Climb off the plains begins just after Chumuckedima. Just before another Naga styled entrance gate (but signed on a small bronze plaque to one side as the "Love and compassion gate") we pull over for another Foreigner registration stop. Staff appear a little uncertain as to what the current year protocol requires, ie whether photocopies need to be kept on file or not. Staff quite curious and the racial differences becoming visually more common. The Ahom people who moved further west into Assam are of South East Asian origin versus the Naga who are believed to have closer links to Chinese ancestry. The angularity and shape of eyes, cheekbone structure and body physique is now more consistent.

The road is great and would be fine to cycle as we start to weave our way into the hills. Alongside the river which is deep and full of large smooth boulders, Teiso identifies that the river currently low and smooth is known by the locals, in english, the Mad river. Every year people die, caught in flash floods and when the river comes down, which rushes through the valley from the upper hills with little warning. Pass semi cleared hillside patches where pineapple plantations have been established. Roadside sign advertising the commercial success and seeking interest in the bee keeping industry. The road continues to be quite curvy and being unused to car travel we elect for a quick stop half way up for a quick breather. Stop not much further along for some diesel at a Bharat Petroleum petrol station, Petrol 62.70 and Diesel 37.34 cents per litre. Opposing valley hillsides predominantly forested which is apparently a feature of the south of Nagaland versus the north.

Take an alternate road to Khonoma deviating off NH39 to the right on a road that curves up through the forest on a very degraded trail. Jeeps suspension getting quite the workout as we work our way up and around the ridge to the South. Views now into a bowl of valley versus across the plains. Progress is slow as the jeep rocks across the rough and occasionally muddy trail. Pass through a ridge top village before swinging around to another. Over one small bridge, metal substructure but deck covered with tree limbs and mud. Every now and again men working into the ridge side wedging and digging free square brick sized slabs of rock. Once free rolling them down to growing piles beside the road. Seems a little crazy with small caves formed with loose overhanging rock and undermined root growth above. Surely landslip material.

Pull over at a view point with Naga styled roof. Out front is a large stone marker with an inscription attributed to the first federal president of Nagaland Khrisanisa Seyie; "Nagaland will never be a part of India their territory is not a part of the indian union. We shall uphold and defend this unique truth at all costs and always." The small village of Khonoma has long been connected with the independence movement and resistance to those seeking to reduce this. As a result the village has been attacked in the past by the british and the indian armies. The British in two major sieges 1847 and 1879 and the indian army in ?

Around the ridge below a large catholic church from the 1950s and up to a small road junction located on the saddle of the ridge line. Park the jeep below the Baptist church and climb stairs along the ridge line to a stone arch and Karu or gateway. It is carved with auspicious or prosperous markers including circles representing sun and breasts, dao (the naga machete - used for agriculture and historically tribal warfare and head hunting (head hunting was outlawed in 1935)) and quite significantly a Mithun head (- a wild cross between an ox and a buffalo). The villages historically being secured via the closing of the heavy Karu and with the village spread on a steep sided ridge line behind.

Beyond the gate we continue up to a small bench seat enclosed area with open space in the middle which has seen recent fires. Space is used to pass tribal stories from the older generation to the younger. Naga history and stories being vocal not written. Unlike other tribes there appears to be no one designated story teller rather a generational duty. Also have a look at a hollowed out Mithun horn used to call or warn people. Step over the seats and walk on past sow houses to a raised stone dahu circle. Used again as a community space it is constructed and dedicated to a village member who has financially supported feasts for seven festivals.

From the ridgepoint we followed some stairs down the eastern side past houses roofed in tin donated by the british after the war, some of the houses sides from old flattened tins and drums. Another dahu and an open square. Split up Soph catching up with a pair of sisters 90 and 80 years old respectfully whilst Teiso and I go and have a look at a Morung which again is a community space but this time constructed as a dormitory for young boys / men in the community in which they learn life skills, hunting, singing etc. In this morung for the Angami people the roof beams and walls are darkened with age old soot build up from numerous cooking fires. On the wall a flintlock rifle but of a massive size. So large that I thought it was fake before reassured that it was real. This thing is more canon then rifle but shaped the same bar it's size.

Invited back to another guys house at the end of the square for rice wine. Take a seat in his dirt floored but clean kitchen after having a look at the long bed where the family sleeps, made out of one large slab of tree at bench height and with a raised wooden edge as a pillow. The slab smooth with time but marked with the numerous chip marks to attain a flat surface. In the kitchen served with a bamboo mug and spoon, in the mug mushy rice at the bottom with clouded liquid on top. Not bad, but would prefer red wine.

After one and a half refills head out to catch up with Soph who is talking with the older ladies in their house. Full of character and thanks to Teiso's interpretation achieve a broader discussion than otherwise possible. They wish us safe travels and hope that we will one day return with the older of the two giving her blessings and passing on to us that good health is the most important aspect for a happy life. They also try to give Soph a bag of potatoes to take but finally accept that they would be very difficult for us to use.

Back in the jeep we backtrack for a while before taking the direct route onto Kohima. No longer a small village now spread across several ridge lines. Down to the main street where we jump out to go explore. Overpass with sign encouraging pride in the cities streets with reference that "cleanliness is next to godliness".

Come across a local market where again our conception of exotic is broadened. This time beyond the frogs are snails, silk worms, tea tree worms, eels and on the furtherest table (all of which overseen by women) the dog meat table. Apparently dog meat is quite good for active people. Wrestling in these parts is quite competitive and popular and according to Tesio a training wrestler in the lead up to a festival may have a diet of one dog per day. Tasty. One of the ladies bags up some local plums and gives them to us, refusing money and thanking us for coming.

Retire to the hotel after late lunch at the Rendezvous cafe. Fletch Lives on cable which is coincidental as it is the second movie which has Fletch (played by Chevy Chase) in the deep south of America in Evangelical country. One of the characters wishes to build an amusement park called Bible land? including a "Jump for Jesus Trampoline centre". Unfortunately power outage hits near the finish and remains in effect for the following three hours. Lite dinner in house before crashing in very comfortable beds in very clean rooms.

Bible belt (Wednesday 25 May 2011)

Tour day. Good feeling to be moving again but quite uncertain with the change of form. Only carry the bags to the front door of the hotel and then settle in to wait for Tesio and our driver, from Jungle Tours India to arrive. Running late but that has been consistent so not too concerned, just buy another chai from the cart across the lane whilst waiting. When the guys show up they are in good form and we throw the bags into the back of the Tata Landcruiser type jeep. Feels weird to be in india and have so much space for four people only. Introduced to our driver Niron.

Set off out of town out past the Doner Planet mall we went to yesterday and out towards Dispur, heading South east. On the far side of the city we swing left at a busy junction lined with people and buses. The road rough as we pass around and through some small red hillocky country covered in green foliage, large grey black boulders of various sizes breaking the over wise consistent coloring. Similar to pre Nalbari we again follow highway roadworks sometimes on new road and quite often off. Again large sections being upgraded to concrete which according to Teiso is a national project. One of two national highway projects one East - West and the other North - South.

From Assam to Arunachal Pradesh, India. May 2011

The road continues to follow predominantly the flats having climbed up and over a currently rough ridge undergoing extensive gravel works. Settle in with the movement of the vehicle though Soph starting to slowly lose her color as we swing on and off the road via diversions and around potholes and occasionally other cars. The beauty of suspension and sprung seats being appreciated by my bottom, though my mind is missing the freedom of cycling. Pull over onto a semi completed section of tar and pull over. Down some side stairs to a large clean Dhaba for late breakfast. Gov of Nagaland number plated vehicles also parked nearby which we take as semi local endorsement.

Continue along NH37 and pass through the gated and busy Nagaon. Spot a business identifying itself as a VIP Tent house, but tents in the context of wedding tents, made generally in these parts out of bamboo. Road seems to be a little better. Pass turn off to Tezpur still continuing East. Tea plantations on the right before entering more forested area which has plenty of pooled water on our left, but looks more fresh then swampy. The guys identify that we have entered Kaziranga National Park. To our left, towards the Brahmaputra, opens up with wide lush grasslands and we start spotting the large light grey bulk of one horned rhinos close enough to see comfortably with detail.

The tea plantation becomes more lush with greater tree canopy and dual cropping as pepper is growing like a vine on the tree trunks. To make things more interesting guys are trimming trees but from the backs of elephants. Cool. We have seen more wildlife here then in three hours at Jaldapera. There also seems to be more localised development adding further interest in returning or recommending this area to visit. Beyond the tea plantations a densely forested ridge adds further landscape character. The road is in fine condition and feeling like it is such a shame that we didn't ride further east. Pass another elephant and rider though the rider is climbing down out of the fork of a huge tree with a massive machete on his hip.

Pull into the Numaligarh dhaba just before town on the left hand side for lunch. Massive place and very professional the food is great. Just after Numaligarh turn off onto NH39. Still passing tea plantations. According to Teiso 50% of all Indian tea is sourced from Assam. He also believes that the life of a tea bush is close to 150 years though it's economic life is far shorter closer to 65 years. These bushes flow like carpet over an increasingly rolling landscape with gouged watercourses eroding soil from some of the small rises.

A bridge crossing made out of bamboo but consisting of raised joined single lengths for the bridge base leading to a small village. Pass freight trucks with Awazdo on their tail flap, Sound do in english. Slightly different from the usual Horndo and no encouragement required. So many cows out on the road. Of all sizes most are quite docile around the fast passing vehicles either remaining lying on the tar, standing resolutely or slowing strolling across the road. Braking and swerving is the only effective technique as honking does not seem in the least to concern them.

Enter another wildlife park, this time the Garampani sanctuary which is denser forest thanks to vine covered undergrowth. Spot something grey on the side of the road further along and Soph goes for the camera at first believing it to be a baby elephant but it turns out, on closer inspection to be a large pig. Villages increasingly with houses made out of thatched roofs and mud walls. Hindi temples straight sided roofs versus the beehive style that has been used in most temples we have been by in the past few days. Wood stalls set up on the side of the road for a stretch of maybe one km selling bundles of wood cut to short lengths of about 40cm lengths.

Some sections of road now starting to be quite rough with massive pot holes before entering Rongpangbong. Misted hills in the distance on both sides of the road. Large factory town of Bokajan, with huge chimney stack visible well before town, very similar to a sugar mill stack. Signage over large gates identifies Cement Corporation of India factory. Pull over and pick up some alcohol supplies, or the guys do anyway, as Nagaland is apparently a dry state. Alcohol is able to be found but at quite a premium. Decline the opportunity as beer needs to be cold to be enjoyable and I have been unable to source tonic water since reentering India. Diminishes the desire to have gin.

Not long after enter rolling small creases of land covered in low growth rather then trees and hidden beneath wild vines we discuss the landscape with Tesio. Apparently this was once tea estates but following some trouble in the form of managers being kidnapped the land has been almost left to return to the wild. Disconcerting approach to Nagaland.

Pull over on the edge of Dimapur at the Border checking station and drop gate. Watch a plane pass over as the guys go through the registration process on our behalf for foreigners entering the state. Fifteen minutes latter continue into Dimapur which we find out is as Nagalands largest city and commercial hub. It is also the location of the only commercial airport in the state. Heading along the entrance road town has a touch of the wild west with small stall shacks on both side of the road and platoons of both cycle rickshaws and black / yellow autorickshaws.

Turn up and over a bridge crossing the Dhansiri river into another part of town. One thing very evident is the effect of christian evangelism in the state. Post the work of christian missions over the past fifty years the naga people are now predominantly Christian having been converted from their previous animist beliefs which recognised and sought to placate spirits of the surroundings (house, village, forest, hills etc). Churches and bible missions are advertised everywhere.

We recross the bridge having taken the wrong turn and drive along Kohima Road where first we pass a large bamboo thatched covered market before passing a long stretch of plain concrete double storied stores. One, is well advertised as a coffin trader. It is a shock being in such a prominent spot and as burials have not been a significant part of the lives of a lot of the people we have met over the past six months.

Pull into Hotel Trinity East (near S.P. Office Kohima Road). New place, really quite nice with lots of marble and more executive probably than our past choices. Room is a smoking room and so the lingering smell of past occupants but new and otherwise fresh.

Head down to the markets with the guys. Inspect the veg and buy some mangoes and local bananas (- a duller yellow and the size of very healthy lady finger variety) before passing a few new options, most notably fresh live frogs (toad sized) and hamsters. Apparently fried frog is a bit of a delicacy and hamsters a good cure if feeling a little sick. Tesio has a bit of a chuckle, to our raised eyebrows and a few hamster jokes and discusses that Nagas are quite exotic in their food choices and broad minded. We are definitely on the edge of south east Asia.

From the market we turn up a side street and enter through a gated large brick entry an Archeological survey of India site, Rajbari Park. Inside in a large park covered with long grass are a few phallic sandstone columns originating from the days when this was part of the Kachari kingdom, pre the Ahom civilisation in Assam (pre 13th century). The columns are very detailed though exposed to the elements, apparently lots of conjecture over the purpose and form of the ruins.

Wander back to the hotel before crossing the road for dinner at Zephyr Lounge which is fantastic. Nicely laid out, attentive wait staff and very tasty well presented food. Mocktails but slightly overpriced, food value very good with large serves. Recommend Thai tempura and Indonesian curry (with coconut rice).

Big river ( Wednesday 18 May 2011)

Man, I am perspiring just packing, under a fan, what will it be like on the streets. Admittedly slept in a little this morning, we both were feeling quite trashed after yesterday. Hotel staff help us get the bikes and gear out the side doors, but still a small crowd set up opposite at a store. Clarify the way to Hajo and then we are on our way following a backroad straight across to the Nalbari - Guwahati road (Hajo Road).

Getting more used to conferring with people on bikes and in cars whilst cycling. Pull into a small village to stock up on water. Soph draws a small crowd. I have to tap a few guys on the shoulders to get back to the bike. Continue past small houses mixture of concrete with ripple iron roofs to mud and thatch places. Most have water near them in large quantities in one way or another.



Large pools of water, varying from brown green, to orange brown to verdant green thanks to surface growth. Some covered with water lilies, predominantly purple colored flowers. Many men wearing like a sarong tied at their waist and quite commonly singlet top. Sometimes tucked up to show off some pretty healthy tummies. The road feels great as it is relatively smooth, no large trucks or buses and best of all it is tree lined. The highway is good and will be even better when finished but is an elevated road with clear lines and so no trees at present.

Stop after a bridge crossing, the water flowing strongly beneath. Current noticeable from the floating green foliage caught in the drag. A small village we pass through has a small river boat under construction made from quite solid slabs of timber. Has some pretty sizable gaps in it's flat bottom so uncertain how they are ever going to float the thing.

Continue on to another small junction town where we stop for chai and samosa. Crowd this time stay with the bikes, until we are about to leave and then everyone is peering down into the dhaba and we pose with various people for snaps.



Had to pass at least one fatherly looking man today who called out to ask if he could take a photo, but by the time he had got the mobile in position I would be surprised if he saw anything. Difficult as would love to stop especially for the older guys as they are generally good value, but we have already stopped and answered so many questions we need to cover some ground.

In Hajo before we realise it. Again no town signage. We are both dripping so stop for some cold drinks, again drawing numbers and causing as a result a bit of a traffic jam. Confirm the way to the local temples, aware that there is something in town only from the coloration of the name on our Indian road atlas. Deviate from the main road and pass a carved and in some parts tiled gem of an old building sitting by itself amongst residential small houses. A little further along a large gate with Krishna featuring and some elephants, tigers etc. A little different from the predominantly Shiva, Ganesh and Hanuman temples we have mainly come across to the west.

Circle around below a fenced area before climbing up to the entrance gate and noticing that the fenced area is a large tank or dam of clean green water and the temple sits on top of a small red soiled hillock standing out of the banana palms and houses below. Soph stays with the bikes as I walk up, shoes removed on the sun warmed stone stairs. By the time I get to the top I am dripping even more. On the bikes you might be expending energy but when moving achieve a cooling breeze, when stopped however it is just humid hot. At the top of the stairs I am invited by an older white garbed priest into the inside of the temple Haigriv Madhav which is so dark I have to wait for a couple of minutes until my eyes adjust.

The main chamber beneath the Ashoka styled dome above is relatively bare but in a smaller cave like side room the main statue resides explained to me by one man as Bishnu (same same Krishna) but I have read via LP Madhav which is an avatar of Krishna. Very confusing and in the dark not clearly memorable. A man outside thought the temple or aspects of it were 5000 years old, I assumed he was getting his english converted numbers wrong but LP states that the key images housed are alleged to be about 6000 years old.

Meet a range of happy people within the temple vicinity before taking the stairs back down to my shoes and the bikes. One of the guys with warm brown eyes and beard that I met on the way in is standing with Soph. She identifies that we have been invited to his house to share chai. Take up the offer as he is really keen and getting good vibes. Walk the bikes across past the water and out on the far side of the temple complex. We discuss via a younger friend who has solid english a range of topics but more in regard to the temple which appears to serve via the Brahmin priests a type of puja and vegetarian meal most evenings.

His house when we arrive is similar to many we have passed on the road. Bamboo woven gate and fence surrounding an inner enclosure with flowering trees before the house a concrete construction. Introduced to the family, mother, wife and daughters. Shown with pride photos of our host in various body bending and strength postures reflecting his yoga prowess. This guy is truly inspiring. More so as you feel the grounding of his heart and soul in his general presence. Given Puri Phita (a bit mike a sweet made from coconut, ghee and sugar) made in the temple nightly by the Brahmin priests and two types of Lahru (the white my fav over the highly peppered) with the chai. Presented with an Assamese Gamusa (scarf) that was made by his wife.





With a few directions we cycle off along the road again. Similar to this morning in countryside but now with dark clouds along the southern skyline. Pulled over by some guys in a care not much further along, having spoken with them whilst rolling along. Presented with another Assamese Gamusa. Left this one on as we continued towards Guwahati. More orange red soil singular hillocks standing up from the plain and healthy brown water rivers flowing past.



The dark storm clouds much closer and grey have all around the wind picked up quite quickly from breeze to a little below Cat 3. Strong enough that as we cycled on the side of the road through open patches of cross breeze we needed to lean into the wind to keep the bikes straight. Considered stopping in a small village under cover but there were so many potential flying debris that we pushed on. First sight of the Brahmaputra from here looks like an inland lake, massive and brown. Roll up a little hill rise upon which a large battle memorial sculpture is placed. Decide to allow the storm to either pass or break and so stop in the relatively clear space. Have to park the bikes out the front of the gated area as chided out by the groundskeeper.

Memorial recognises the Saraighat uprising by the Assamese against the Mughals in 1671. Meet a guy from upper Assam who identifies that the river is quite similar to this further up also. He looks a heavy set Bodo or Nepali in face structure. The storm seems to have abated so we roll on.



From the memorial the road drops back down through a small village at the road junction and then swings up past the Bengali Sapper encampment to the bridge junction. Armed solidiers with battle fatigues and helmets are patrolling the junction. Further up a policeman uniformed in a sandy brown outfit with beret and bearing both gun and long stick directs that we can't cycle across the bridge. Rather he directs that we have to cross to the right side pedestrian walk way and walk the bikes across. At least he stops the heavily flowing traffic so we can get across to the walkway. No photos.

While grumbling in my mind about seeming power freaks with sticks, mustaches and berets we start the stroll across. Work in various stages to our side to build another bridge crossing with dredging underway on some bridge supports and closer to the shore much higher formwork and concreting. Very little river traffic that we can presently see, especially for a river this large. Guys on the deck level below walking along the single rail track checking bolts with massive spanners.

On the far side finally back onto the bikes and rejoin the heavy flow of traffic. Traffic in town flows quite well and we suddenly hit large roundabouts and junction traffic lights which visibly count down to a change in light. The usual dodge of bus traffic but less bikes and rickshaws and no donkeys etc just the odd pedestrian walking on the side. Increased street signage but still could be improved. We work our way to Assam Trunk road, then SB Shah road and finally after a couple of wrong turns and redirects to ? road.

First and second recommended hotels full as the rain held off but the mossies didn't. Third place okay but for what we paid 700 rup at Nalpuri now paying 1150 rup and the guy at the front desk feels officious. I think it must just be me after the traffic encounters and a big day, as this is the capital and city prices one would expect to increase. Still for us a refuge from the day and the mossies and somewhere to secure the bikes.

Siliguri (West Bengal) to Guwahati (Assam), India May 2011

The best and the worst of times (Tuesday 17 May 2011)

A few power outages throughout the night. No big deal but you definitely notice the difference once the fan stops spinning.

Breakfast in the hotel having given the bikes a quick clean off and a little oil. Also the chance to give a quick inspection and adjust a few screws gradually working themselves loose. For a place with such a hard name to pronounce (recognisably for the locals) this is a place I could come back to. Back out to the highway along the same road we came in upon. Again dodging rickshaws and cyclists but with a different intensity in the morning.

Consistent sections of fantastic tar or concrete makes the riding feel progressive as the landscape remains largely the same. Large flat segmented fields some already sown with rice others waiting for further water accumulation. Little to no signage especially when compared to West Bengal makes things a little more tricky. In most of the small villages at least one of the stores normally has a sign which helps but you really need two to get confirmation. Our road atlas is also not very assistive so we are forced to stop and confirm as we go.

Cross a large healthy looking river. Strange bamboo contraptions on the far side. Stop for a photo and notice that a boy is using the closest and smallest. It turns out to be a net system to catch fish, I guess. He is not having much success. Two crossed bamboo lengths are tied at each corner of a large net, another is used as a lever to raise and lower in and out of the water periodically.



Stop for chai at a road side dhaba hidden behind trucks. Served by a young boy with one glazed pupil from glaucoma. When we go to pay the owner waves us away.

From Siliguri (West Bengal) to Guwahati (Assam), India May 2011

Rub spots slowly working themselves to an annoyance level. Again finding a consistent spot to sit comfortably through the ride is a challenge.

Ride past a guy recording us on his camcorder, standing beside his black jeep just parked on the road. Tired at the time so decided to take a break not much further along the road. The camera guy follows us in his car and then also stops. A local journalist interested in what we are doing. It is hard sometimes in knowing what information to provide both from a third party interest but also from the protection of our own security.

Locals harvesting by hand some of the rice crop and then spreading on the unused side of the highway to dry. Also pass chillies being laid out in a similar arrangement.

From Siliguri (West Bengal) to Guwahati (Assam), India May 2011

Large Elephant chained to a large tree near a dam of water scratching itself on the tummy with a tree branch.



My shirt appears to be slowly rubbing tortuously my nipples off. Last night a little bored and decided that chest hair was looking more like Mike Myers as Austin Powers than Sean Connery as James Bond. Unfortunately I have now realised that the hair was on protection duty.

So many people asking our details. A few wave us over and we choose instead just to wave back. The stops are great but we would not make it anywhere if we stopped every time.

Okay Nalbari give me a sign, I think as we continue to cycle along the signless highway. A second after I thought it and plodding through the crank cycles I was scanning the horizon and spotted a cross. Well I guess it is a sign but not the sort of sign I was originally considering. St Johns church and school, quite coincidental as I attended a St Johns college back in Australia. Great mosaic on the front and the sports fields are being vigorously appreciated and appear in quite good condition which is great.

Three guys across the road wave us over and then offer us drinks. Over discussion identify that they are Bodos which is interesting as again the perception to date from outside the state is of local discord over autonomy. However these guys could not be nicer.

Two girls in local costume are introduced. According to LP it was one of the requirements within Bodo that girls wear national costume.

This is interesting as this was one of the identified causes of friction in Bhutan between Bhutanese Bhotia and Nepali immigrants in the South. A Tata truck driver also joins in paying for our cookies and water. He has little to no english however which makes things quite difficult, but is very nice. He even suggests we throw the bikes in the truck as they will be in Guwahati tonight. Decline the offer and say goodbye to the other guys.

From Siliguri (West Bengal) to Guwahati (Assam), India May 2011

From Siliguri (West Bengal) to Guwahati (Assam), India May 2011

Spot the turn off the highway to Nalbari, thankyou Bodo people, unsigned like Bogaigaon and similarly distant from the road, but the rail crossing as described was hard to miss.

Nalbari undergoing roadworks and does not have the same level of chill as Bogaigaon. We struggle to find a hotel as similar to the last few large towns/cities it is hard to find a central point. We are feeling pretty tired.

Paparazzi mobile phone users, not answering questions just taking shots, regardless of whether smiling or not. No pushing, no graving and very little touching but after a big day of riding, being swamped by people who do not attempt to read your very evident mood is hard. Not to mention the traffic jams we caused every time we stopped in town. People would gradually build up, drivers or riders would slow down to see what was going on and for anyone want to get anywhere the road became effectively blocked.

Eventually a young guy on a Motorbike offers to lead us to Hotel PremodalPriya Bar. Only ac rooms available, but at 700rup the room is quite good. Very helpful staff

We compare red patches spotting the nastiest and discussing the most painful. If doing similar again I think I would spend much longer assessing seats, the bigger and bouncier are not always the better but either we are still unhardened or our seats are a touch too unforgiving. Rear suspension would be nice, but just another thing to potentially have to repair. Our front suspension is going fine though we are hardly putting under any pressure with off road down hill and consistent weight.

Notice a guy across the hall peering through a key hole. Not sure on the specifics and he doesn't seem overly concerned at being seen doing so. Mental note to cover the key hole in future. In some ways I couldn't give a rats but knowing the curiosity factor best not to entertain.

Set up our room joining our beds to achieve our mosquito net camp. In this place we have ac, fan, mosquito burner but best not to encourage the little suckers. We elect to only use the fan as though still 30 degrees in the room it feels weird to be too cool otherwise.

Life in the fast lane (Monday 16 May 2011)

Last night there was some cracker storms. We hope that it has used up all it's fury and that the day will be clear but the sky when we look out is still grey. Can only hope that it will hold for long enough for us to get some kms under our wheels. One of those wheels I note has a broken spoke. No prizes for which rim, but I am surprised that the reduced weight of Bob has been enough. Must be riding the BMC too hard.

The highway starts sketchily with sporadic sections of separated road but with only one side being used by vehicles. Sides vary and are not consistent and when you are just appreciating either the fine smooth tar or concrete surface the road section with either end or converge for a river crossing over the old bridge and lake size potholes. The sky to the north looks black grey, more angry than morose as we cross the border into Assam. At a police check post sitting to the side of rows and rows of parked freight trucks we are waved to the side. Guys just interested in the bikes. Few casual questions regarding what we are carrying. Just past them a large I am guessing public facility for the drivers including little bungalows on one side and weigh station, customs building on the other.

We make 4 to 5km before feel first drop of rain, not long before it increases to a light drizzle. We are waved towards a bus shelter on the side of the road by a couple of guys but are already past. Instead pull into a petrol station under construction and share the verandah with the couple who appear to be care taking the building for the time being. Not long after the rain kicks up a gear and is striking with force on the diagonal. We stand around trying to strike a conversation that can't really go anywhere because they have predominantly Hindi and we only have English and a little Nepali. After a while the rain eases a little and we decide that it is unlikely to completely stop any time soon so we might as well cycle on.

On the bikes and just down the road we come across a small road side dhaba. Decide we might as well have breakfast and sit out a little more of the storm. Whilst eating breakfast the storm intensifies into a roaring downpour on the tin roof. This is impressive stuff, I don't know how it could get any heavier without someone dropping the bucket with the water or a wave of water. A youngish guy from group of indian business types, comes over and strikes up a conversation. Gives us some detail in regard to the road ahead and we swap contact details.

Again the rain has settled a little so we don our shell wear (wet weather jackets) pull up the hoods and throw the bike helmets over the top. Feel a bit cocooned but gives you a feeling of separation from the weather. Life in the fast lane as surrounding traffic decreases in the rain. Continue to ride along the elevated road looking across fields with settled water some already planted with rice. The road is the same if not worse then this morning as the pot holes are now semi filled with water and the road grit begins collecting on the bikes cranks and chains. Slowly the bike orchestra gains volume as the accumulation continues.

Finally the rain eases, then stops and blue sky is for the first time clearly visible. Unfortunately the same issues due to the accumulation of surface water and continuing road work patches. Now that the rain has stopped the water sitting in the fields and in the semi completed traffic islands is reflecting mirror images of the sky and fields, it feels clean as we continue to roll towards the east.



Pass a larger clean looking river where on the banks we spot large open wooden fishing boats on the bank. Combined with the thatched houses it feels different to what we have seen so far in India.

Speak to a range of people from road workers, to guys cycling by, to villagers and passing drivers. Generally simple questioning, but followed with plenty of "welcome to india" etc. Really nice, even though at times keen to cycle on to make ground. Maaza and water is keeping us going with the occasional Good Day cookie filling the gap. We did have one left over banana from yesterday, but left the window open last night and a cunning bird had flown in and flogged it. We would not have realised apart from the rustling in the night and a bird poop on the coffee table this morning. I had thought rats or mice when I awoke and relocated the chocolate and the cookies. Forgot about the banana.





Stop after a bridge crossing to tape some frogs down in some lillie covered wetlands bordered by fields. There must be hundreds of them as the sound drowns out conversation and the sounds from the passing traffic.

A four wheel drive pulls over and we meet our first self declared Bhutanese. Interested in the bikes as one guy owns a Trek and the other did time in Singapore learning bike repair and maintenance. He also runs cycling tours in Bhutan. ( ) We communicate our disappointment as a result of our visa difficulties as they offer assistance should we decide to return.

Increased signage and monuments dedicated to the Bodoland movement. Will have to read further to understand the struggle and the issues as though I know it to be a relatively fresh and sometimes nasty struggle I am aware of little else. People here are a mixture of really dark skinned people like some west Bengalis or even people from Kerala and lighter more Asian (mongoloid) featured similar to Nepalis.

Huge oil refinery establishment on our left as we get closer towards a hill range standing out on the plains to our right. Joke about whether we have without realising turned somehow and seeing the foothills of Bhutan. Not long afterward three way main junction and traffic streaming to the right. Confirm that this is the way to Bon? our stop for the night. Not a moment too soon as Bum and Bikie breaks have increased in frequency.

Not far along we enter North Bon? where auto rickshaws increase in numbers and in unpredictable roadside stops. This leads to quite a bit of weaving in the traffic. Cross a railway overpass before reaching the main road of town. Review a couple before settling for the Raj Palace, recommended by a young Punjabi guy who we met outside one of the other Hotels. It is as good in setup and with much friendlier staff and better prices.

Shower off the grit in the cold only shower which starts quite warm. Such a fine feeling even though feet are granny wrinkled having sat in soaked socks for the majority of the day. Dinner in the hotel restaurant and the best naan since Uttrakhand. Stoked. Currys veg and non veg also very good. Staff a little worried as we order a ten cup pot of tea and a two litter mineral water. Very much needed though as both feeling in need of fluids. On the news a story about a train crash in Assam. Maybe we might travel back to Siliguri by bus.

Retire to our room where geckos are squeaking every now and again both inside and outside. Set up our mosquito net from the curtain rack to avoid using the wall plugged Mortein burner. Hoping for a good solid night sleep as another big day tomorrow with just over a hundred kms to be covered.