‘Anyone else smell petrol?” asked my friend Nambi, his nose in the air along the Indian highway. To our right, acres of shimmering, emerald green rice paddies. To our left, a lone farmer nudging his stubborn water buffalo along with the end of a stick.
And in front of us? A serious problem.
My teammate and I had pulled up behind Nambi, and behind us was another group – three guys from Bahrain. Together we were making our way across India, albeit in a slightly less than ordinary fashion.
It wasn’t just our itinerary that was unusual – from Shillong in the country’s remote northeast corner (which was only opened to tourism a few years ago), to Jaisalmer on the far western edge of Rajasthan and the Thar Desert – but how exactly we were getting from A to B.
By rickshaw – a three-wheeled auto-rickshaw, that is, otherwise known as a tuk tuk. Often used as a taxi throughout Asia, its 145.45cc, two-stroke engine happens to have the same strength as a garden lawnmower. In other words, it isn’t normally the kind of vehicle in which one should attempt a two-week, 3,000-kilometre journey.
But for myself and more than 150 others, the idea proved too tempting, the lure of an unsupported adventure too good to pass up. Even when Nambi smelled something suspicious from the Bahrainis’ rickshaw, and opened their engine to find half a tank of petrol spilling out onto the asphalt from a disconnected tube, such a slip-up was not only expected, but welcomed.
It wasn’t the first snag to come our way: there was the 30-kilometre traffic jam outside Patna; a most inconvenient breakdown in the middle of an intersection just as we reached Agra; and a near-miss with a mischievous cow as we were heading into Jodhpur.
But for every problem, there were moments that made it all worth it. Crowds of Bihari villagers surrounding our rickshaws, their curiosity about us just as strong as ours towards them. Lunches of steaming hot, potato-filled aloo paratha, rolled out and grilled right before our eyes. Watching the sun rise over the Ganges; racing to catch the Taj Mahal at sunset.
And when we finally crossed the finish line in Jaisalmer, thankfully there wasn’t a whiff of petrol in the air; nor a hint of oil or grease either. Nothing but the scent of pure satisfaction at having rattled our own way across India in this most iconic mode of sub-continental transport. Although next time, maybe I’ll take the train…
CATCH A CAB
The Rickshaw Run is just one of seven adventures organised by Bristol-based company, The Adventurists (www.theadventurists.com). The run is held three times a year—in January, April and September—and there is currently a £1,395 entry fee per team.
To read more about Candace’s adventures – both in India and elsewhere – you can follow her blog, The Great Affair (www.candaceroserardon.com). From ziplining in Sweden and harvesting pearls in French Polynesia to hiking the Camino de Santiago across northwest Spain, she is passionate about inspiring others to fall in love with the world.
