I said farewell to my Dad and booked into Zostel in Delhi to wait for the lads to arrive. It was good to meet up again after a month of being apart. We had some decisions to make with regards to what to do with the van which was still impounded at the border. It was 3weeks until the girls arrived in Goa so we had to decide fast. After investigating every possibility it left us with two options.
Option 1-hire a van, drive the hire van to the border town, empty our belongings and anything worth any money, say goodbye to big sal, drive back to Delhi, ship belongings home and continue by backpack.
Option 2 - send a load of money off to the RAC in England for the carnet of passage, then hope they can process the carnet and deliver it to Delhi in 2weeks, half the time it normally takes just to process it. 2 weeks left us with one week left to get to Goa to meet the girls for Christmas, it was cutting it very fine by possible.
A carnet of passage is a document which allows a foreign vehicle to be temporarily imported to a country without paying import duty. The affiliated automobile association from the country where the vehicle is registered (RAC in the UK), needs to guarantee that if the vehicle is not exported within the permitted 1 year allowed they will pay the relevant import duty. It is therefore the responsibility of the vehicle owner, us, to pay a whacking great big deposit to the RAC for them to issue the carnet. Half of the deposit will be returned to us when we prove the vehicle has left India.
We obviously made a spreadsheet to compare the costs and after a vote we decided to take the gamble and go with option 2. We sent the money off and were promised that the carnet would be fast tracked due to our situation and be processed within a week. Things were looking up.
Next on the agenda was to go Enfield shopping for Stew and Dunny. Stew found a nice 500cc bike and negotiated a good price. After the transaction was complete it was time for Stew to get on and ride it. 'Stew, it's 1 up and 3 down' Stew looked blank, 'ahhhhh the gears...' The vendor asked Stew, who had never rode a bike before, where are you heading? Stew replied with Kerala, 3000km away. The guy looked shocked as Stew stalled a few times then wobbled his way down the road.
Next was Dunny's turn. We found a shop on the next road with a very nice looking 350 for a good price. After a bit of tweaking and fine tuning the bike was ready and the money had changed hands. It was Dunny's turn to make a fool out of himself. After struggling to get it to start, and a few stalls he was off, like a rocket almost taking out a pedestrian. To finish off their first lesson we hit Delhi rush hour.
During this time Gaz was bed bound, his Delhi belly was still in full swing. He had a problem with farting in his sleep, but the farts weren't only farts. After soiling his boxers he went for the 'wrap yourself in a towel' approach. All this meant was he woke up with a shitty towel. He had yellow bile coming out of both ends but was gradually on the mend.
We were excited, we had three Enfields and were all competent motor cyclists, sort of. That evening there was one thing for it, go for a blast around Delhi. Gaz was felling well enough to get out and was able to controll his bowels. We smashed it around Connaught Place, a ring road system around New Delhi centre. It felt like we were on the Cheltenham cruise. Next stop was India Gate, again a massive roundabout circling the India Gate archway. Dunny's bike developed a knocking sound so we pottered back to the hostel.
Our plan was to head off early towards the mountains but we had to go via the bike shop to repair Dunny's. They stripped the engine down and found the problem. The big end bearing had disintegrated leaving chunks of white metal bearing shell in the sump. It needed a complete rebuild. This meant another night in Delhi and a good excuse for a night out. Delhi has a no drinking policy in most areas but one road is cordoned off as a drinking spot. We had a good night. We went to collect Dunny's bike at the agreed time and surprise surprise it wasn't finished. We were getting fed up of Indians constantly promising what they couldn't deliver. It was getting frustrating. 6 hours later Dunny's bike was back together.
We had some good news, the carnet had been processed and was on it's way to India. Eager to get out of Delhi for a few days we began heading north towards Hardiwar. Three bikes, with five of us in total. Me, Stew and Dunny riding with Gaz and Scottish on the back. As we were leaving the outskirts of Delhi, Stew and Gaz came past me and Scottish in traffic. Stew thought it was funny to look over and give us a rude hand signal, then whack, the joke was on him as he went into the back of a parked lorry. It was only slow so no real damage was done but hilarious. It began to get dark so we started looking for a place to stay. It was wedding season and a Saturday so all the hotels along the main road were fully booked. After food and a puncture we managed to find one room in a hotel at 11.30pm. There was three in the bed and the little one said roll over. With the 5 of us in one room we settled down for the night.
The following afternoon we arrived in Hardiwar, a sacred town on the banks of the River Ganges. It was a nice town where many Indian pilgrims visit for a dip in the Holy Ganges. We had been tracking the status of our consignment and after going from Heathrow to Germany and back to Heathrow, it was finally on it's way to Delhi. This was our que to return. We put in a long day and got back to Zostel in Delhi at 8pm that evening. It was a shame we didn't have time to go 50 km further north, into the foot hills of the Himalayas but our time precious so we had to return.
We had a good and productive week, now we had our fingers crossed the carnet would arrive and we could free big sal.
Rob
Option 1-hire a van, drive the hire van to the border town, empty our belongings and anything worth any money, say goodbye to big sal, drive back to Delhi, ship belongings home and continue by backpack.
Option 2 - send a load of money off to the RAC in England for the carnet of passage, then hope they can process the carnet and deliver it to Delhi in 2weeks, half the time it normally takes just to process it. 2 weeks left us with one week left to get to Goa to meet the girls for Christmas, it was cutting it very fine by possible.
A carnet of passage is a document which allows a foreign vehicle to be temporarily imported to a country without paying import duty. The affiliated automobile association from the country where the vehicle is registered (RAC in the UK), needs to guarantee that if the vehicle is not exported within the permitted 1 year allowed they will pay the relevant import duty. It is therefore the responsibility of the vehicle owner, us, to pay a whacking great big deposit to the RAC for them to issue the carnet. Half of the deposit will be returned to us when we prove the vehicle has left India.
We obviously made a spreadsheet to compare the costs and after a vote we decided to take the gamble and go with option 2. We sent the money off and were promised that the carnet would be fast tracked due to our situation and be processed within a week. Things were looking up.
Next on the agenda was to go Enfield shopping for Stew and Dunny. Stew found a nice 500cc bike and negotiated a good price. After the transaction was complete it was time for Stew to get on and ride it. 'Stew, it's 1 up and 3 down' Stew looked blank, 'ahhhhh the gears...' The vendor asked Stew, who had never rode a bike before, where are you heading? Stew replied with Kerala, 3000km away. The guy looked shocked as Stew stalled a few times then wobbled his way down the road.
Next was Dunny's turn. We found a shop on the next road with a very nice looking 350 for a good price. After a bit of tweaking and fine tuning the bike was ready and the money had changed hands. It was Dunny's turn to make a fool out of himself. After struggling to get it to start, and a few stalls he was off, like a rocket almost taking out a pedestrian. To finish off their first lesson we hit Delhi rush hour.
During this time Gaz was bed bound, his Delhi belly was still in full swing. He had a problem with farting in his sleep, but the farts weren't only farts. After soiling his boxers he went for the 'wrap yourself in a towel' approach. All this meant was he woke up with a shitty towel. He had yellow bile coming out of both ends but was gradually on the mend.
We were excited, we had three Enfields and were all competent motor cyclists, sort of. That evening there was one thing for it, go for a blast around Delhi. Gaz was felling well enough to get out and was able to controll his bowels. We smashed it around Connaught Place, a ring road system around New Delhi centre. It felt like we were on the Cheltenham cruise. Next stop was India Gate, again a massive roundabout circling the India Gate archway. Dunny's bike developed a knocking sound so we pottered back to the hostel.
Our plan was to head off early towards the mountains but we had to go via the bike shop to repair Dunny's. They stripped the engine down and found the problem. The big end bearing had disintegrated leaving chunks of white metal bearing shell in the sump. It needed a complete rebuild. This meant another night in Delhi and a good excuse for a night out. Delhi has a no drinking policy in most areas but one road is cordoned off as a drinking spot. We had a good night. We went to collect Dunny's bike at the agreed time and surprise surprise it wasn't finished. We were getting fed up of Indians constantly promising what they couldn't deliver. It was getting frustrating. 6 hours later Dunny's bike was back together.
We had some good news, the carnet had been processed and was on it's way to India. Eager to get out of Delhi for a few days we began heading north towards Hardiwar. Three bikes, with five of us in total. Me, Stew and Dunny riding with Gaz and Scottish on the back. As we were leaving the outskirts of Delhi, Stew and Gaz came past me and Scottish in traffic. Stew thought it was funny to look over and give us a rude hand signal, then whack, the joke was on him as he went into the back of a parked lorry. It was only slow so no real damage was done but hilarious. It began to get dark so we started looking for a place to stay. It was wedding season and a Saturday so all the hotels along the main road were fully booked. After food and a puncture we managed to find one room in a hotel at 11.30pm. There was three in the bed and the little one said roll over. With the 5 of us in one room we settled down for the night.
The following afternoon we arrived in Hardiwar, a sacred town on the banks of the River Ganges. It was a nice town where many Indian pilgrims visit for a dip in the Holy Ganges. We had been tracking the status of our consignment and after going from Heathrow to Germany and back to Heathrow, it was finally on it's way to Delhi. This was our que to return. We put in a long day and got back to Zostel in Delhi at 8pm that evening. It was a shame we didn't have time to go 50 km further north, into the foot hills of the Himalayas but our time precious so we had to return.
We had a good and productive week, now we had our fingers crossed the carnet would arrive and we could free big sal.
Rob
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