Road to Kathmandu
Shaken awake
My head hitting the bus window
Slowly navigating the traffic of Ghazipur
late in the night
on the way out of India to Kathmandu
we had encountered a demonstration
the crowd totally engulfing the narrow confines of the street
inching our way forward
against the flow
all wearing yellow
banners
shouts
blurring
waving lights
noticing the white passengers
the crowd fell into silence
then
turning as a tide
into a sea of pandemonium
they fell onto the bus
locked arms
pushing
rocking it from side to side
with an ever increasing
pendulum swing
trying to overturn the bus
we had no idea what this was about
the wheels were lifting off the ground
then thumping
bouncing down
then again
side to lurching side
the driver
an ex British Marine
planted the accelerator
with his hand
pumping the horn
the bus
lumbering
crashing through the gears
gaining speed
parting
like a knife edge
the screaming crowd
the rocking
straightening out with speed
with a downpour of thumping fists on the sides of the bus
in unison
a melodic terror
the crashing
cracking sound of rocks
cracking the windscreen
bouncing off the bus
peppering the crowd
we pulled out of this swamp of humanity
speeding through the out skirts
then into the welcome
darkness
and quiet
of the Indian country side
swaying up to the driver
patting him on the back
thanks for that Matt
that was good thinking
it saved us
Man
I was scarred shitless!
Thankfully we didn’t kill anyone
When I was going through Turkey once
I hit and killed this guy
A bloody accident
But I was thrown into a Turkish jail
No trail no nothing!
It took the company six months to get me out
Paying the right people
It was an expensive business
I didn’t want to go there again!
What you have to do to survive
In a Turkish jail
As a white man
You just don’t want to know about!
Matt was a survivor
Smart
Savvy
Having done this trip before
The bus was stocked with Johnny Walker whisky and denim jeans
The symbols of the West
Which he sold in Turkey and Afghanistan
At grossly inflated prices
10 times what he paid for them
Offsetting his meagre income
After this shock to our collective systems
Causing us to miss the grotty hotel in Ghazipur
We pulled off the road
By an old burnt out stone house
To get some sleep
We had been driving all day
The collapsed roof of the house
With its charred, blackened beams
Like fiddle sticks
Forming a degree of shelter
Rolling out our sleeping bags
In the lights of the bus
Settling into the cold
Hard ground
Sleep
was short lived
The scurrying
of not so tiny feet
soon became a river
Running over our sleeping bags
Me
pulling the sleeping bag over my head
as the thought of sharing it with
huge rats
was well outside my comfort zone
Muted screams
shouts
Exaggerated gestures
To keep them at bay
As we scurried
bundled our bags into the bus
the bus kicking into life
sending a stampede of rats
exploding away from the bus
the noise rupturing the night
startling
the not so little creature
the size of cats
rumbling
bumping
into the night
over the stone road
towards the border
nodding heads
catching what sleep we could
finally shaken into the real world
the border
emerging out of the early morning mist
Relieved
With a contagion of smiles from
Waving
welcoming
Buddhist faces
Shining
Radiant smiles
As we crossed into Nepal
A stark contrast to India!
we were now on the final leg
of this bus trip from London to Kathmandu
the group becoming close knit over time
but fractured
into the clustering of like minds
the racist, argumentative pom
his submissive girl friend
on the way to New Zealand
where they also served their beers in pints
the Aussies
looking for an adventure
the long way home
on the hippy trail
we teamed up with Glenn Wheatley
and Gaynor
later to become his wife
Glenn was the bass player with Masters Apprentices
We often shared a tent
Becoming fellow traveller’s
The band had been ripped off by management so many times
Eventually leading to the band’s breakup
Glenn spent time in London studying management
He was committed to bringing a new standard of management to the music industry in Oz
Something that supported the growth of Aussie talent
Glenn went on to establish The Wheatley Organisation
Putting the Little River Band together
The beginning of it all for Glenn
And so
began the ascent
Into the clouds
Towards Kathmandu
On this
single lane
Stony
serpentine road
That was often washed away in the monsoon season
Buses and trucks disappearing over the edge
Into the valley below
Or the raging river
Was anything but uncommon
The painted trucks, buses
speeding towards you
In a face off
Controlled sliding
Skidding
to a halt
Backing up where you can
to gingerly pass
clipping mirrors
The precarious nature of the trip
Galvanising our attention
On the road ahead
Moving the collective us
To the edges of our collective seats
We were in the hands of Matt
Who radiated a silent
high energy stress
A frightening
Clinched
White knuckle
hands
locked to the wheel
the concentration
Instilling silence
At each turn in the road
Stone head stones
Proclaiming
I love you but not so fast
Lightening the mood
Evolving into sniggers
laughter
I am curvaceous be slow
This is a highway not a runaway
The laughter inhaled
Gasping
at the bus coming straight at us
with the then ritual standoff
tentative give way
slow pass
Be gentle on my curves
The air was thinning
The intensity of colour deepening
Horn is to honk do it on my curves
Matt was obeying this advise
On each bend
Road is hilly don’t be silly
Slowing under a water fall
The water drumming on the bus roof
If married divorce speed
Washing through atomised spray
The caked dust
eroded into rivulets
Love thy neighbour but not while driving
My window seat
Cutting
Slapping the foliage
On the cliff side
Better to be MR LATE than to be LATE MR
On the outside
A shear drop
Into a rampaging river
After whisky driving risky
Often the road edges
Were eroded
Narrowing the road further
Speed thrills but often kills
The mist was rising
Raising the curtain on the mountain valley before us
Speed is a knife that cuts life
The sun breaking through
Drink and drive is a fatal cocktail
The signs relieving the continual tension
Driving faster can cause a disaster
Heading into Shangri-La
The blending of Hinduism and Buddhism
The mesmerising
Hypnotic
sway of the bus
weaving into
a higher world
Life without vision, courage and depth is simply a blind experience
What more can be said