Bikepacking 1.0

Cycling through 410KMs from New Delhi to Pushkar in Rajasthan through Gurgaon-Manesar-Shahpura-Jaipur-Ajmer-Pushkar. This is my adventure on the Delhi-Ajmer expressway on a bicycle riding solo from Delhi to Pushkar. The destination, Pushkar, turned out to be sort of a buzzkill for me so I will share that experience in another post.

Day 0

Wires oiled. Drive-train cleaned and lubricated. Bungee cords fastened.

There I was, sitting in front of my computer double checking the routes, my guest house reservation and possible stopover locations. I wanted to be sure of everything. My bike was behind me, loaded and ready to go. I didn’t know if the loading was correct or if I was carrying too much weight.

All I wished for was the spokes to not break. I was carrying spare spokes and some of the tools necessary to fix them. I just didn’t want them to break. Broken spokes make things messy, specially if they were on freewheel side of the wheel. Not that I couldn’t fix them, but it would just break the momentum.  I wouldn’t have had a problem if I had to deal with punctures. Even if there were 20!

Loaded and ready to go. The blue saddle bag contains the puncture kit, in case you’re wondering what I would do if I had to deal with one. On the other side of the frame parallel to the bottle, is a mini frame pump.

I put on all my gear, my helmet and so it began. Roughly 20 minutes into it, barely out of Mathura road and some kids on a bus pointed at my bike and started laughing. I brushed it aside only to realize two minutes later that my bike was tilting towards the right. So I stopped to check and it was the bag. It was hanging loose on the right side of the rack. And this is what I had hoped for. Small kinks and problems which I should know of before the real deal so I can improvise. Which I did by figuring at out a way to fasten the bag to the rack using the shoulder straps along with the bungee cords. Aside from this, getting to Manesar was not an issue at all.

Sitting in the hostel mess at the National Brain Research Center where my father had hooked me up to stay for the night, it all became fairly clear to me. That beyond this point, I would be on my own. So I simply loaded myself on carbohydrates and water and slept early to be ready for Day 1.

Day 1
Manesar to Shahpura

It’s funny when you want to wake up early for something you don’t really want to do, even the loudest alarms in the world wont be able to wake you up. For me it was quite the opposite. I had been waiting for this morning for quite sometime and so I woke up just in time to switch the alarm off before it could even ring. Quickly took a bath, checked for everything I wanted to carry in my backpack and the makeshift frame bag and my tiny backpack, loaded my water bottle with water ofcourse and the fuel – Glucon -D, which I never liked as a kid. But I later realized how much I would appreciate this white powdery substance.

6:30 AM. The sun wasn’t out yet, but visibility was good. What I wasn’t prepared for was the sudden drop in temperature that had developed almost overnight. Delhi had been nice and warm up until the first week of November. But I wasn’t going to let this stand in the way of anything. So I bid adieu to the hostel and got onto the highway.

My place on the highway.

My first long distance bicycle journey had just begun. Just as I finished my first kilometer I knew my place on the highway. The left most lane was to be shared with other two-wheelers and tractors. It was humbling to feel the turbulence left behind by the trucks and cars as they go past you at 80-90 KM/hr, while you hold on to the handlebar tight enough to not slip off the road on to the gravel.

I began to feel the weight of all the bags, chargers and the batteries I was carrying. Sure there were times when I simply wanted to cut the cords and speed through the smoothly laid asphalt. But I sort of ‘needed’ all this stuff tied to the back of my bike.

Only two days before the ride, I had decided to bite the bullet and spend some more money on the bike which had already become the most expensive element of this entire adventure. But Mr Sanjay at Decathlon Noida ensured I would have no troubles at all if I did. And he was right. So, soon as I get my other life in order, I will go and personally thank him for convincing me to get the freewheel and chain changed.

The black and orange patch in the image on the right are my cycling shorts which really confused a lot of motorists on the road.

Anyway after nearly 4 hours of non stop riding except for the occasional water breaks,  I stopped 5 KMs short of a small town called Behror. This place was – I wouldn’t call it abandoned…probably closed for the day – a couple of cement and hardware shops with farms on adjacent sides, right next to the service road of one of the many many flyovers constructed along the Delhi-Jaipur highway. By this time I had covered over 90 KMs and I had developed slight rashes even after wearing cycling shorts. But this was probably down to the fact that I was wearing a second pair of shorts over my cycling shorts to avoid looking like a misfit. Lesson learnt. I quickly changed into something loose as I knew I would be resting for a while until the heat subsided. So I simply sat and eventually dozed off for a bit on the cool cemented floor under the tin shade and some trees.

As I cycled towards my first planned stop, Kotputli, I figured I could and probably should go a little further. The more distance I cover each day would only mean I would have to cycle less the following day. So with only a couple of hours left before sundown, I soldiered on to find a hotel beyond Kotputli. And I finally faced my first puncture of the trip. So I dragged my bike to a tire shop and fixed the puncture myself while answering a zillion questions about the cycle, the gear system, and myself among others. When I left Kotputli, I found myself racing against time. When you’re on a bicycle, riding alone on the highway during the night isn’t really an option.

Somwhere in Pawta, between Kotputli and Shahpura.

By this time I was already nearing the 150 KM mark and was just looking for a basic hotel to crash in. While I asked for directions in Pawta, an elderly Rajasthani man offered chai and a place to stay for the night. But I politely declined because, one, I don’t really like hot beverages. And two, I thought I would be a burden with my stuff and the cycle itself. So within moments of entering Shahpura, I found a hotel and convinced the staff to help me carry my bike up to my room. Yes, this might sound a little weird, but I had actually managed to get the makeshift frame bag stuck on the frame itself. A nice warm bath and the 160 KMs of cycling throughout the day ensured that I would sleep like a baby.

Day 2
Shahpura to Dudu

Like the previous day, my day started at 5:30 AM, checking and cleaning the bike. Gathering everything at one place before loading them onto the bike. And so after checks and double checks I left the hotel by 6:45 AM. Only this time, I had started my day in my cycling shorts. Now for some of you who have seen cyclists in their cycling shorts this wouldn’t really come as a surprise. But I’m willing to wager that most of the people who saw me on the highway had only probably seen this in the movies. 

By this time, I was nearing the Jaipur-Ajmer bypass road that would comfortably put me on the beautiful Delhi-Ajmer highway. I stopped for getting directions from a truck driver who was almost checking me out. While that wasn’t unnerving, what was though was the fact that the landscape was changing. I could feel the air becoming a little dry and saw barren mountains on both sides of the roads. Yet what amused me were patches of lush green farms on my side of the road and almost desert like terrain on the other side. I stopped at a few houses along the way to fill up my water bottle and in the process startled the women in the houses. They smiled and pointed to the tanks outside their houses where they drew their drinking water from.

Women working in the farms.

This was also where I decided to capture the now partly famous (mostly among my friends) selfie. The surroundings look kind of warm because they were in fact quite warm.

The highway selfie!

As I bypassed Jaipur and cycled through Vishwakarma Industrial area, without knowing I got onto an elevated section of the highway with just half a bottle of water. The sun shining on my head, I navigated through 5 flyovers and what seemed like an endless highway without exits. I stopped other motorists on the road to get directions and water. 10 KMs through and I was beginning to believe I would exit somewhere near Ajmer. So I stopped one last time to ask if there was an exit. Fortunately there was one just a kilometer down the road from there. But this prepared me for the final section of the highway that leads to Ajmer. The last 100kms or so, which would convince you that you were going in the wrong direction.

The target for the day was 100-110 KMs, but since I couldn’t find a place to stay the night, I had to keep moving and finally stopped in a small town called Dudu, just 75 KMs short of Ajmer. The hotel was in pretty bad shape but the people were genuinely sweet and welcoming. After answering all their questions as I had been answering the last two days I proceeded to my room to retire for the day.

Highway by night.

Day 3
Dudu to Pushkar

Following the same routine as the previous morning, I picked up some chocolate bars and water from the store at the hotel and checked for air in the tires. I knew today was going to be a light day cycling-wise. So I took it slow and decided I would stop along the way to capture some photographs. And what a beautiful morning it was!

Skyscapes along the highway.

I passed some more small town and villages and again went past green fields that appeared in the middle of nowhere. But this was the most lonely stretch of the highway. Hotels and roadside dhabas would come and go every few kilometers, but aside from that it was generally very sparsely populated.

I suppose I could not have avoided the possibility of punctures altogether. Just 12 KMs short of Ajmer, I stopped to drink some water and get a breather. Within 5 minutes I lost all the air in the my rear tire. So I yanked the tools out to fix it. Fixed two punctures, one of which came right off. I thought I was doing it wrong. But this was a slightly thin tube I was running inside my 1.95 inch Kenda Kwick. So it was difficult to get the patch to stick over the seam. 30 minutes of fixing and it didn’t work and it was already 11:30 AM. At this point I was calculating the amount of energy I would expend if I was to continue fixing it. Things quickly became really hot outside the small bus shelter I was standing in.

The bus shelter 12KMs short of Ajmer City.

So I pushed the bike along the road to find a professional to help me out. I stopped at a dhaba and went to the tire repair guy. After examining the bike he refused to fix it. Said he only knew how to do trucks and motorbikes. This was a different kind of vehicle to him. So I simply knocked the bike over on the ground to pry open the tire and reveal the inner tube. And he started smiling. I wish I had captured his expression. He examined it quickly and told me there were two more punctures making it a total of 4 punctures. He fixed it and asked me if I was carrying an extra inner tube since the one I was running was worn out. And though I was, I didn’t want to change anything about the bike at that moment. I just wanted to get to Pushkar before sun down.

Since it was already 12 PM, I decided to rest for a bit at the dhaba and have food. So I ordered some rice and daal asked them to go easy on the oil and masala. But that never happens. While they were busy preparing my meal, I took my phone out to check if anyone had called and thought I could let my father know about my whereabouts since he had been overly worried about the entire idea of venturing out alone on the highway. I wasn’t getting a signal so I switched it off and on again. 16 missed call alerts from dad. 3 each from three of his colleagues. 3 from one of my close cousins. 3 from mum. And another 2 from a close friend, who actually had no idea what was going on and just called to check up on me. And then in that instant, I received a fourth call from one of my father’s colleagues. Frantically asking me where I was and what I had done to my phone, she later told me how happy she felt about my trip. She asked me to call my father immediately who was a nervous wreck by now. He was getting in his car to head to Ajmer and mentioned something about having someone call the Rajasthan CM’s office and the SHO at the local police station at Dudu. I couldn’t blame him or anyone else at this point because I was 300KMs away from home, riding a bicycle alone on the highway with all that luggage. Then I spoke to mum who explained how dad isn’t used to such situations and that this was the only way he knew to react. I could tell. She was far more relaxed and understood that sometimes phones do go out of reach, especially on the highway. So after having a long conversation with dad, I asked him to quickly call off the search because I didn’t want the police to escort me to Pushkar from Ajmer.

With everything packed and punctures fixed, I entered the outskirts of Ajmer where I took the bypass road to Pushkar. This would help me avoid the rush in the city and would lead me straight to Pushkar through small villages and some amazing views. Located in a valley, Pushkar is surrounded by the Aravalis on all sides. And while these mountains aren’t much compared to the Himalayas, they still add a lot of character to the Pushkar skyline.

Not a panoramic image. Just edited to seem like a seamless mountain range and also to show how much the landscapes change in those 22 KMs from the Ajmer bypass road to Pushkar city.

The road was a little difficult to cycle through due to hilly terrain, but I had reached the city in an hour’s time. Since I couldn’t locate the guest house I called Pappuji to get directions to Atithi Guest house who then asked me to give the phone to someone standing nearby. There was a fresh juice vendor who volunteered to help and gave me directions. Turns out, I was standing just 150 meters from the guest house. But juice vendor had some questions of his own. About the cycle, about my journey. And oddly enough, about the bags I was carrying. He seemed to be fascinated by the bags I was carrying. The most awkward moment came when he inquired about the shorts I was wearing, referring to them initially as kaccha – underpants, or trunks if you may. Because he wasn’t just asking. He partially slipped a finger in to check what it was made of. Now I’m comfortable with my sexuality and my body, I just didn’t want him to feel embarrassed and of course make more juice with that hand. I’m sorry for bringing this image to your head. But he spoke to me for half an hour when all I wanted to do was either ride or get to my guest house, so I had to mention him. He was very sweet and asked me to get him a bag like the one I was carrying if I ever went back to Pushkar. I’ll try to remember next time.

I am the highway.

This is more or less what I experienced throughout the 410 KMs of my ride. Not to forget the innumerable looks and stares I got from people on motorbikes, cars, buses and trucks alike. The co-drivers seemed to be the most amused of the lot. They would turn around in their seat to see me pedal and smile as I waved back at them. I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said at least 500-600 people left whatever they were doing to look at me and wonder who is this person and why is he cycling here of all the places under the hot Rajasthan sun. Sure, the weather wasn’t always conducive for cycling, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. And yes, though long distance cycling probably needs a little more preparation than other forms of traveling, it certainly helps making the journey a little more fun if there is a bit of uncertainty involved. Like multiple punctures, or the fact that you could develop rashes in the most wrong places even after taking all precautions and dropping a huge amount of money on those slick cycling shorts.

Yes it might seem a bit daunting at first when you calculate in your head that you would be cycling anywhere between 120-130 KMs everyday for three-four days with no less than 11 kilos of additional weight behind you. The thought of being there on the road, alone, with no one to fall back upon in case you fall short on confidence is scary sometimes. But believe me, people aren’t bad out there. There was one particular stop where two people wanted to ride the bike, one of whom took it more than 2 kilometers away with my camera, credit card and at least Rs 3000 in cash inside the bags. At first I thought, way to go genius. But then I figured, I could always hitch-hike my way back, earn a little more money and buy another camera and get my bank to re-issue my credit card. No harm done.

Cycling shouldn’t be seen as exercise. That takes the fun out of it. It should be about getting on that saddle and NOT whooshing past cities, towns and villages at break-neck speeds but instead floating along the road experiencing everything.

Best,
Siddharth