Finally the day dawns.  We have come 4200 miles from London to cycle through Rajasthan from Jaipur to Agra.  This is what I’m excited about.  The group are probably pretty excited too, because from this moment, there will be no more ‘when I was here last time’ from me as this is all new unchartered territory (well, at least until we reach the Taj Mahal…).

My Trusty Steed!

With clippy pedals and sofa saddle fitted, all that remained to do to ready the bike for action was fasten the purple flowers to the handlebars and shove the streamers into the ends of the handgrips.  Flowers and streamers fulfil the dual function of cheering me up on a long ride and distracting attention from my lycra clad fat bottom.  I think both were fully achieved during the week.

Leaving the Amber Fort behind, we are driven out of Jaipur to meet the bikes which are waiting for us outside the chaos of the city.

And then suddenly we are set free in India.

George and I – ready to hit the road!

Today’s cycle is 50km and we have about 4 hours before darkness to get the distance under our belt and reach the bar to catch a Kingfisher.  I’m not exaggerating when I say that a vision of the ice cold beer dances in front of my eyes like a carrot to spur me on, although to be fair, this applies more to the mammoth post-cycle bus ride via a haunted temple to reach the hotel rather than the cycling bit.

On the few occasions I managed to get some training in during the wet and miserable autumn months in Belgium we were managing 60km quite nicely in about 3 hours. As the traffic and road conditions are actually pretty similar between India and Belgium, the prospect of 50km in 4 hours seems quite leisurely.

Heavy Traffic

It is fantastic to get out of the cities and into rural India.  When the roads are this good and the traffic to negotiate is on foot the pace of life slows and you have time to drink in the real India.  At least for the moment, whilst there is a road and there are no tractors, camels, cows, goats, snakes, water-features etc on it.

I can’t help thinking as we set off that I wished the two who went home this morning had stayed; because they missed out on this. They missed experiencing the real India outside of the urban sprawl; where there are no hawkers who don’t take no for an answer and everyone you meet is delighted to see you.  Where the views are (mostly) beautiful and you can breathe lungfuls of fresh air if you time it right (you definitely can’t breathe lungfuls of fresh air behind tractors – but timing is always everything).

Before we know it, the cycling is over for the day and an eternal coach ride takes us to a crumbling Maharaja’s Palace for the night via a haunted temple.  The local crew, Pramod and Manish, are wanting to show us their country. We don’t arrive at the haunted temple until gone 1700 and the place is closed for the day.  Not to be deterred, soon enough a reopening is negotiated and our little group tries to suppress thoughts of beer and hot showers as we show willing and walk to the temple.

Feeling Glorious

The glory of the Maharaja’s Palace was somewhat overshadowed by our very late arrival, the lack of any hot water for showers, and the ear-drum splitting music during dinner.  But they had beer, and dancing after dinner, and comfy beds, and heck we’re in the middle of nowhere in India so what do you expect?

Maharaja’s Palace – the hotel at Bhandarej