tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86306463544591263352024-03-14T04:07:04.748+10:00Lang and Bev Kidby AdventuresLanghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comBlogger168125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-27025477586375068512015-11-08T09:25:00.002+10:002015-11-08T09:28:57.545+10:00Searching StoriesBy going to the history/archives on the right you may bring up each month. The history/archives also hold various expedition stories from past years- just click on the year and month.<br />
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Unfortunately blogs are posted on top of each other so each section needs to be read in order from the BOTTOM. A quicker way to scroll to what you want rather than going to the archives on the right is to click on "Older Posts" at the bottom of the page.<br />
<b><br /></b><b>All photos may be clicked on to bring up full size. If you bring one photo up full size just keep clicking on it to scroll through all the photos in that post</b>Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-63650361166583850202015-11-08T08:02:00.000+10:002015-11-08T09:19:35.379+10:00Vietnam Motorcycle TripAfter meeting an old friend, Mike Baker, in Bowen I was invited to join him on a week long motorcycle trip in Vietnam through the mountains on the China border accompanied by his son Cal and mate Dan from Adelaide.<br />
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We arrived in Hanoi and went to the Mototours Asia shop to be issued with bikes and meet our guide, a pleasant young fellow named Quin. Here we also joined up with two local residents in the form of Niko, an Italian and Manu, a Frenchman.<br />
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The traffic in Hanoi is not too hectic but the roads are infested with small scooters and motorcycles operating on the no-rules, just keep moving principal found in most Asian countries. The bikes we were issued with were two Indian built Royal Enfield 500's and the rest Honda/Suzuki 250cc enduro bikes. It turned out that the comfortable but heavy plodding Enfields were quite unsuitable for the difficult tracks ahead. The enduro bikes were old and poorly maintained but we managed with worn tyres, poor brakes and no rear shock absorbers<br />
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Heading north out of Hanoi we were soon into the most beautiful picture post card country with vertical limestone pinnacles covered in jungle with terraced rice paddies in the narrow valleys. We had a bit of excitement when Mike confronted a truck on a narrow bridge (we were off the main road on gravel byways by this time). He grabbed a bit much front brake and was slammed down on the road from his Enfield resulting in a few scrapes and bruises.<br />
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Eventually arriving at our destination, a traditional house in a small village, we were treated to a great night in Bac Son. One large room dominated the wooden building and we set up our gear on what was basically a 7 man bed with individual mosquito nets. The host family went out of their way to provide a wonderful meal accompanied by cold beer and the everpresent home brewed powerful rice "wine". Those who could, sat cross legged on the floor while the rest of us sprawled in whatever position we could twist our legs.<br />
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Cal, whose legs had swollen on the flight from Melbourne had not improved and was looking in a bad way. He was driven back to Hanoi where he continued to deteriorate so was flown out to the American Hospital in Bangkok. I dumped my Enfield and took over his trail bike while Quin took the Enfield giving Mike his much more agile trail bike.<br />
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The following days were filled with outstanding riding along narrow cliff top trails, crossing rocky rivers (drowned bikes) and being carried on bamboo rafts across wide rivers. We were way off the beaten track away from towns. The tracks at times were very precarious no more than a metre wide with 500 metre vertical drops off the side. The scenery was spectacular.<br />
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We took a boat ride on Ba Be Lake along the "Apocalypse Now" style jungle lined river in misty conditions to where the water has cut a hole right through the mountain. There were more home stays, more rice wine and lots of parting company with our bikes. My worst injury is a sprained ankle though Manu broke his wrist on the last day but managed to ride to the finish. I think I might be getting a bit old fopr this enduro riding stuff.<br />
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The last day we were way out there right up on the China border. The hills are extremely rugged with few flat valleys. Right on top of a mountain we came upon an ethnic Hmong people market. The women all were dressed in the finest traditional intricate costumes. I particularly liked the used water buffalo market where the spiv salesment tried to convince the hoof-kickers to buy this particular model which had only ploughed 500 acres.<br />
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We finished in Lai Cai, a large town on the Chinese border and the end of the only rail line running to the north. We loaded the bikes on the train and had a comfortable trip in sleeping berths overnight back to Hanoi.<br />
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All in all a great trip mostly away from towns and traffic with quite a bit on foot or bike tracks devoid of any 4 wheel vehicles. The people were friendly, the villages were filthy (probably on average worse than other Asian countries) but the bigger cities OK, the scenery was spectacular.<br />
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<br />Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-84423254810243720112015-07-13T12:02:00.001+10:002015-11-08T09:22:52.990+10:001928 Austin 7 to Cape York<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <b>Da</b></span><b><span style="font-size: large;">isy, the 1928 Austin 7, after returning from Cape York</span></b>Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-17605988682425865142015-07-10T08:35:00.001+10:002015-07-28T16:22:12.609+10:00Home<div dir="ltr">
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We made it to the top.<br />
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And we made it back to Cairns.<br />
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The Northern tip of Austraia looking towards Torres Strait. Daisy on the beach.<br />
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A nice run back to Cairns near Port Douglas.<br />
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8<sup>th</sup> In deference to Daisy we elected to travel the shortest distance to the bitumen straight south to Laura. There are some bitumen strips several kms long but in between it is the roughest section of road we have encountered. We stopped at Hann Roadhouse for a break before arriving at Laura late morning.</div>
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Here we took more photos of the two Austin 7's together. The store owner at Laura has had one parked outside his roadhouse for many years so it is symbolic being able to have them side by side.</div>
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From Laura we are back on a lovely smooth road surface with no more white knuckle, heart in the mouth, bone rattling travel. We stopped at Palmer River roadhouse for a late lunch then made it to Mount Carbine where we checked into the caravan park and are able to secure a cabin overnight. This is not just two beds in a donga but the cheapest accommodation so far and the size of a small unit with all mod cons, very welcome.</div>
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9<sup>th</sup> We have a pleasant trip down the range into Mossman and then along the coast, arriving back in Cairns at midday having completed our circle with Daisy purring along and the two of us feeling very much more relaxed.</div>
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The trip has been great fun and we have been able to bring history alive which is what we set out to do, and we achieved our aim. Driving old cars though, especially under such rough conditions, you are constantly aware that you are testing the boundaries. Lang did a fantastic job driving the entire route and attending to all the mechanical needs Daisy required. Of our two New Zealanders in 1928 Hector only learnt to drive between Sydney and Cairns and he said in his book he was always happy, like me, to be the passenger. I can only imagine how difficult it was for them, no communications, no roads and no idea of what lay ahead, true pioneers who should not be forgotten. </div>
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Total distance covered from Cairns to Cape York and back was 1,624 miles (2,598km). Total fuel used was 58 gallons/230 litres giving 43mpg in the old money – pretty good seeing we spent a lot of time crawling in third and even second gear. On the good sections we played it conservative and although Daisy would do much more, we sat on 35mph/60kmh. Several of our problems were caused by the huge load she was forced to carry. The corrugations are constant throughout the trip and although the Austin 7 rides nicely, effectively having no shock absorbers results in regular out of control "drift driving", particularly on corners.</div>
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A great little car for its day and it would have been a winner on the English country lanes for which it was designed. Just goes to show you can take any car anywhere as Dick and Hector proved in 1928. Back to the 4x4 for us for a while until we feel in the need of more more punishment.</div>
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Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-50853197839684651582015-07-09T16:56:00.001+10:002015-07-28T16:37:15.047+10:00On to Musgrave<div dir="ltr">
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Kids enjoy the car at Bramwell Station<br />
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Broken fuel line.<br />
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Archer River<br />
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Daisy is pretty small.<br />
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6<sup>th</sup> Off again with Daisy fixed and raring to go. Called into Moreton Telegraph Station and selected breakfast from their vast menu of pies or pies. Despite the culinary paucity it is a lovely green place for travellers to stay under shady trees with friendly staff. The road is still pretty crook and we decided not to sidetrack into Weipa for an extra couple of hundred km of corrugations. Just north of Archer River Daisy died and we discovered a fuel union had worked loose and all our petrol had slowly run out on the road (no fuel gauge in 1928 Austin 7's). A young couple with a couple of kids stopped and I jumped in with a jerry can to go 25km to Archer River for petrol and hitch a ride to return to Lang who was fixing the fuel line. Before I could leave Archer River Lang appeared having been refueled by Shane who was passing on his way to Weipa with a can of chainsaw fuel – Austin 7's will run on anything it seems. Having a petrol engine is becoming a serious remote area planning issue in this day of diesel engines in 90% of 4x4's.</div>
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We soon had camp set up and dived into the clear waters of the Archer to get rid of the dust.</div>
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7<sup>th</sup> Leaving the Archer we bounced over a terrible road towards Coen. There was no generator charge and after a bit of investigation it seems the primitive cut-out had failed although the generator was still working. We managed to get a charge by Lang revving the engine with me under the bonnet pushing the contact in but the rough road and gear changes caused the engine revs to drop and the contact to pop out. We figure the car will run for days on a full battery and we have switched off our stereo, Engel fridge, airconditioning and electric seat adjustment to reduce electrical consumption.</div>
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Musgrave Telegraph Station is a nice break with good food and a welcome cold beer.</div>
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Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-647478412952683212015-07-09T16:53:00.001+10:002015-07-28T16:37:45.237+10:00Home again, home again, jiggedy jig<div dir="ltr">
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4<sup>th</sup> We did not get away from Seisia until early afternoon but decided to head south as far as we can during the afternoon. We are the only car on the ferry and at about 4pm we turned off on the Old Telegraph track to Sailors Creek to find a great spot beside the water with nobody for miles.. We had a refreshing swim in the creek followed by a nice meal under the stars. The car has been running well all day</div>
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5<sup>th</sup> Set off from our camp site and after refuelling at Bramwell Junction we decided to go into Bramwell Station again as they have had a horse race, bull riding, greasy pig etc festival on all weekend. After lunch we are off and all-but reach the main road when Lang detected a strange lurch and crunch and realised we had broken the right rear axle housing completely off the differential. </div>
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We limped back into the homestead and Lang and the station truck driver welded the crack.The light axle was also fitted with a neat cross support brace under the differential like off-road race trucks to cope with any further excess overloads.</div>
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We decided to stay the night at Bramwell Station and enjoy the live entertainment once more.</div>
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Southbound across the Jardine River<br />
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Sailors Creek. Beer was only cooled in the creek but washed the dust away.<br />
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Almost luxury!<br />
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Typical road - nowhere near the worst.</div>
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Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-11554954979018214772015-07-09T16:52:00.001+10:002015-07-28T16:38:06.075+10:00We make Cape York<div dir="ltr">
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2<sup>nd</sup> Lang headed off to the garage and worked there all day with Mark at Top End Motors rebuilding the brakes and the leaking radiator. I went down to the wharf and managed to get on the ferry over to Thursday Island where I spent the day. It certainly has changed since we were here 30 years ago!</div>
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3<sup>rd</sup> We are off early to head for the tip. The road is pretty rough but we cover the 34kms to Cape York by 09.30 despite drowning Daisy in a deep creek crossing. As it was low tide we were able to take Daisy onto the beach for photos of our arrival. Lang and I walked out to the tip and by the time we returned the car park was filling up and on the way out we passed dozens of 4WD's all heading to set foot on Australia's northern most point. The road from Bamaga to the tip is the roughest so far and we were limited to second and third gear on the corrugations.<br />
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A bit deep for Daisy - nearly made it.</div>
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The famous Croc Tent Cape York road<br />
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A lovely day at the tip.<br />
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Australia's most Northerly point.<br />
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We are still having radiator problems so it is back to Top End Motors for some more repairs.</div>
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Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-65568767567349163442015-07-09T16:50:00.001+10:002015-07-28T16:38:37.943+10:00Bramwell to Seisia<div dir="ltr">
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An Injinou family.<br />
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Kids everywhere loved Daisy<br />
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1 July Before setting off Lang had to fix the accelerator cable and then we went 10km to Bramwell Junction Roadhouse and refuelled. We are getting 17kms to the litre so Daisy is proving very economical. She has a 20 litre tank and we are carrying two 10 litre jerry cans. During the day all brakes failed so Lang is just reading the road and using the gears, emergency stops are achieved by turning the ignition off.</div>
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We called in at Fruit Bat Falls which are lovely but over-run with 4WD's and people so continued on to the Jardine River Ferry crossing. Again there was a huge line up of vehicles and it took about an hour and the help of Tina, who was driving the car in line behind us, to cross. We tied a rope from her front to our rear so we didn't get away and go down the steep slope, across the barge, and end up in the Jardine. We had considered trying to reenact the 1928 crossing and even brought a large tarp with us to float the car across. Unfortunately there did not seem to be anybody who was willing to wade across the river with the crocodiles, Lang probably would have given it a try but this little duck certainly wasn't going to.</div>
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The roads again range from OK to awful and we eventually hit bitumen just out of Injanoo and headed through Bamaga and onto Seisia. This is a tiny but pretty seaside town with a very nice caravan park. What it also has is Mark the mechanic at Top End Motors. We organised to have Daisy looked at the following day and booked a donga at the park for the next three days..</div>
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Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-67223907679599964472015-07-09T16:37:00.001+10:002015-07-13T07:54:40.659+10:00Coen to Bramwell<div dir="ltr">
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30<sup>th</sup> We are off by 0700 with very few cars on the road through to Archer River. The road conditions vary from OK to downright awful. After refuelling at Archer River and having some breakfast we made the decision to not side-track into Weipa, and put Daisy through another extra 200kms of corrugations.</div>
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Turning onto the Telegraph Road we decided we had made the right decision as this part of the road seemed to be in much better condition. We called into Moreton Telegraph Station for lunch and continued onto Bramwell Station for the night. During the day we struck quite a bit of rain which made it fun when cars passed and the windscreen turned red. As the wiper does not want to work we found we could tilt the whole windscreen and wipe with paper towel each time someone passed us.</div>
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At Bramwell Lang with the help of Les, a volunteer at the station, again worked on the brakes which continue to give us problems.In the evening though, we were able to relax and enjoy a very nice meal and live music until 9pm.</div>
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A chance meeting with Alan and Jan Pike and a quick coffee in the bush.</div>
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Typical termite mound - no, they don't all face north!<br />
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Les and Lang fixing brakes.</div>
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Fruit Bat Falls. Great spot but too easy to get to for the herds travelling north.<br />
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Jardine barge on a busy day.</div>
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Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-30478175140855521192015-07-09T16:01:00.001+10:002015-07-13T07:59:31.164+10:00Cooktown to Coen<div class="mobile-photo">
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Crossing the Normanby River<br />
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On the 27<sup>th</sup> we set off from Cooktown in the rain.but the weather cleared once we were over the range. We forded the Normanby River on the Battlecamp Road with no problems and then struck out on the gravel which had a few corrugations but the car handled it well.</div>
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We arrived at Laura late morning and set up camp behind the pub. Daisy had her photo taken with the Austin 7 parked at the Laura Store. During the afternoon Lang worked on the brakes removing each wheel and adjusting each one in turn. Seems all brakes were seized - something we had not spotted before leaving home.</div>
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In 1928 Hector and Dick in Emily put their Austin 7 on the railway that ran from Cooktown to Laura but this fell into disuse after the gold and other local demand finished shortly therafter. Laura's big weekend was on with Picnic Races and bull riding but all the crowd were camped well away from us at the show..</div>
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Leaving Laura on the 28<sup>th</sup> we had no oil pressure. The thin wire from a bread wrap-tie from a motorist parked at the roadhouse to clear out the oil jets soon had us on the way again.</div>
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We then headed for Lakefield National Park on relatively good roads. We arrived at our pre booked camp site at Hann Crossing on the North Kennedy River before lunch and enjoyed a very relaxing afternoon at this idylic spot totally out of sight of any other campers on the banks of the river.</div>
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On the 29<sup>th</sup> we continued through the National Park calling into Lotusbird Lodge – a beautiful resort 28 kms out of Musgrave where Sue and Gary the owners treated us to morning tea. We stopped at Musgrave Roadhouse and topped up with fuel and as we were leaving we passed Jan and Alan Pike returning from Weipa. Alan boiled the billy and we swapped tales of our trips. They were travelling south so were able to give us some clues about the road ahead..</div>
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Now we are on the main north-south road the conditions are fairly horrendous. The corrugations really make poor Daisy do a merry dance, and there is a lot more traffic to contend with.</div>
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We have been having trouble with Daisy overheating and during the afternoon she just stopped dead and Lang found the points closed. Despite a daily dab of grease, the new points are wearing their rubbing block very quickly and will need checking regularly.</div>
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Not many water crossings this time of year.</div>
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The Austin 7's at Laura<br />
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There were several different styles of termite mound.</div>
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Leaving Lakefield National Park.<br />
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We arrived at Coen at 3pm and were able to get a room at the hotel for the night. In 1928 Hector and Dick talk about what once had been a thriving inland town dying because the high cost of labour had forced the gold mines in the neighbouring mountains to close.</div>
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Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-66807386848768096692015-06-26T17:35:00.001+10:002015-07-13T07:58:01.846+10:00Fwd: On the road<div class="mobile-photo">
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The first of many brake repairs at Mareeba.<br />
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After some great hospitality, we set off from John Lenne's house in Cairns (where the ute and trailer are stored) on Thursday 26th June for all points north.<br />
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The little car, now christened "Daisy" by Bev, has been cruelly loaded despite all efforts to reduce the weight. Initially the engine sounded like a machine gun but it was discovered the timing was extremely advanced. With a bit of fiddling the distributor has been modified to use both its internal automatic advance and the original hand lever on the steering wheel and now is purring nicely.</div>
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The very steep 15km climb up the range from Cairns to Kuranda tested the little girl with a stop halfway to replenish the radiator. On arriving at Barry Dick and his partner Linda's place at Mareeba the left rear brake was removed after it was found dragging and frozen. It is amazing how much better a car goes without the brakes half on!</div>
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A nice night at Lakeland Downs pub was followed by an early morning run into Cooktown. Some seriously steep hills were now taken 'in it's stride" by Daisy using the increased performance. Although she will go faster we find about 60kph is a nice comfortable cruising speed. Fuel consumption, once over the range has come it at 52mpg - about 15km per litre. Fuel is not going to be a big expense and the 20 litre tank should get us easily between stops.</div>
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Cooktown has been great with lots of interest and an interview by the local paper who were fully expecting us - how we do not know. As the Austin 7 in 1928 was the first car ever to drive to Cooktown their interest is keen.</div>
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Tomorrow on the Battle Camp Road and our first dirt to Laura.</div>
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Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-21225595206204887012015-05-24T13:07:00.001+10:002015-07-16T09:42:30.097+10:00Cape York by 1929 Austin 7<div dir="ltr">
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In late June we will be heading off to recreate the first car journey 1,000km from Cairns to Cape York (Australia's most northerly point). In 1928 Hector Macquarrie and Dick Mathews drove a tiny Austin 7 on a heroic journey through the bush and over numerous tropical rivers to be the first vehicle to reach Cape York.<br />
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We have acquired an identical 1928 Austin 7 and will attempt to take this little 87 year old car on the same route. The Cape York trip is still the great four wheel drive destination as the way is closed for 6 months of the year due to monsoonal rains and high rivers. There are gravel roads now built around the most difficult sections but we will attempt to follow the original unmade route along the old overland telegraph line - the same horse track Hector and Dick went on in 1928.<br />
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Many four wheel drivers steer clear of this difficult track but we reckon that the groups of helpful aboriginals who helped push and actually carry the tiny car through deep creeks in 1928 might be replaced by the odd helpful Landcruiser in 2015 to assist us up the near vertical banks. Apart from adhoc pulls on the rope if required from passing 4x4's we will be going completely alone and unsupported.</div>
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Whatever the outcome it will be a lot of fun and we will keep you posted.</div>
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<b>The Austin Seven</b></div>
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In 1922 Herbert Austin decided to build a tiny car to replace the motorcycle sidecar - which was all that was available within the financial range of many people in Britain at that time. The result was a vehicle that stayed in production for over 15 years and sold more than 300,000 units around the world. It was also built under licence in several countries such as the French Rosengart, the American Bantam, the German Dixi - BMW's first motor car and the Japanese Datsun - their first "full size" car.<br />
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The car only weighs around 400kg (the Landcruisers who will be passing us weigh 7 or 8 times as much). A mighty 10 hp from a 750cc sidevalve engine will be speeding us along.</div>
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Langhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09937916612801587646noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-89507783649793239122013-09-18T21:12:00.001+10:002013-11-11T16:22:38.082+10:00Searching StoriesBy going to the history/archives on the right you may bring up each month. The history/archives also hold all the various expedition stories from past years- just click on the year and month. Unfortunately blogs are posted on top of each other so each section needs to be read from the BOTTOM. All photos may be clicked on to bring up full size.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-69589031683057386872013-06-21T10:28:00.001+10:002015-12-12T13:38:26.531+10:00A 7 Week Drive in North East India.<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 15.75pt;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><strong style="color: white;"><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">Indian Bureaucracy</span></strong><b style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></b><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444;">It is quite fantastic the amount of paper - in carbon triplicate - that you get here. If you buy a 50 cent item at a modern supermarket they chase you out of the shop demanding you carry your cash register receipt. This works in your favour because if you have a bit of paper with stamps all over it you are a long way towards proceeding.</span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Of interest was going to Similipol Tiger Reserve in </span></span><st1:place style="background-color: white;"><st1:placename><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">Orissa</span></st1:placename><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"> </span><st1:placetype><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">State</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"> west of Kolkata. Everyone has to drive along a terrible 2nd gear road for 18 kilometres to collect the entry form from the park ranger - these are only held by him, not at the office which gives the approval. You must then drive 18 kilometres back to an unsolubrious town to give your form to the Regional Inspector who makes copious copies of your passport and visa. Because I was driving my own car (along with many Indians) you have to go to the Transport Supervisor across town to have all the details checked, copied and certified in triplicate then take it all back to the Regional Inspector. Here the Regional Inspector copies the copies done at the Transport Supervisor and attaches them to your Park Permit Approval form. This can not be accomplished in one working day.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444;">Going back the next morning you pick up the approval paperwork which runs to 13 pages and over 25 stamps and proceed the 18 kilometres back to the park gate. If you arrive outside the hours of </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><st1:time hour="6" minute="0"><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">6.00am</span></st1:time><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"> and </span><st1:time hour="9" minute="0"><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">9.00am</span></st1:time></span><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"> you miss out and have to come back the next day because they are the entry permit issuing times. The Park Ranger then meticulously checks the paperwork - by fantastic luck I had a copy of my International drivers licence - because the ranger's copy machine did not work and he must keep a copy of all licences of drivers in the park which meant an 18 kilometre trip back to town and miss the ticket issuing time at the park gate. When I said just take the copy off the Regional Inspector's pile he was shocked that I would attempt to mess with a complete set of approval papers.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Finally at 3 minutes to 9.00 and number 19 in the car line (only 20 cars per day are allowed into the park - the other poor devils had to come back tomorrow) I got my ticket. It was a nice drive through pretty dry forest with a couple of dry waterfalls that would be spectacular in the monsoon. And after all that I did not see one bloody TIGER!<br /> </span></span><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white;"><strong><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">Indian adventures progressing.</span></strong><b><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"><br /></span></b><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">The little Suzuki 4X4 is plugging on well. Average speed on the main highway is only about 50kph mainly because the surface is shake your teeth rough and the millions of trucks sit on 45kph. We decided to take the back road out of Bagdogra/Silliguri up to </span><st1:city><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">Darjeeling</span></st1:place></st1:city><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"> which sits almost exactly the same height as the highest mountain in </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">Australia</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">.<br /><br />As you get close, the 600km from Kolkata rises about 3 metres then suddenly before you are the </span><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">Himalayas</span></st1:place></span><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"> shooting up vertically out of the plain - no lead-in foot hills.<br /><br />We headed into the hills on a winding switchback road only one car width wide. The Suzuki has a terrible lock and often I had two attempts to get around the corner. For about half an hour we needed first gear then it flattened out so I could grab second gear. Luckily there was little traffic because each passing required someone to hang over a 500 metre vertical drop while the other car scraped along the cliff face to get past.</span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Finally reaching our required altitude at about 2,500 metres I noted oil all over the road. The Suzuki obviously had a crook rear main bearing seal and the three hours screaming away in low gears with the nose pointed in the air had pushed it all out the back of the engine. Clutch seems OK so we will just carry on, hopefully a bit more level.<br /><br />As we were all taught in school, </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><st1:city><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">Darjeeling</span></st1:place></st1:city><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"> is a British "hill station" started in the mid 1800's to escape the heat of the lowlands. The social whirl would have been amazing and Victorian mansions and homes along with numerous Clubs soon appeared. In the late 1800's the British built the "Toy Train" which is a narrow gauge line which takes 7 hours to climb from the Ganges plains to Darjeeling. A fantastic feat of engineering still running today. I talked to the locomotive fellows who were cleaning the firebox on an engine and they said of the 14 engines this was not the oldest being only 104 years old. They have 4 diesel locomotives as well but they did not like them as much and they are no faster than the steam trains.<br /><br />The snow-capped peaks tower over the town. Unfortunately it is the dry season so the smog from the Indian plains sits in the valleys ruining the view but the peaks burst above the smoke level and you can see every detail of </span><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">Kanchenjunga</span></st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"> (one of various spellings). It is pipped by </span><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">K2</span></st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"> only by 25 metres as the second highest mountain in the world. Everest can be seen a little further </span><st1:state><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">north west</span></st1:place></st1:state><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">.<br /><br />The town is now still a hill station to escape the plains heat in summer for wealthier Indians and </span></span><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">foreign tourists and backpackers and every available inch is built on almost vertical slopes with very narrow winding streets and lots of steps and stairs. </span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">We jagged probably the newest place in town because you can only see the back of the hotel roofs as they are all built down the slope from the roadway. We just stopped to ask prices with Bev taking the place to the left and me to the right. I hit on the new Best Western which is western 4 star standard for $70 a night including full dinner and breakfast for two. We thought that would do although it<br />was a rip-off after our previous nights in Napidwep and Malda in lesser hotels but at $14 per night, dinner $2 extra.<br /><br />We stayed along the way here at Napidwep to go across the river to Mayapur which is the world headquarters of the Hari Krishna movement. Bev had met some fanatic at the Woodford Folk Festival who insisted it was a </span><st1:city><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">high point</span></st1:place></st1:city><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"> of an Indian visit. The boat trip across the huge river was very interesting. I actually found the area also very interesting because of the people. The </span><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">Krishna</span></st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"> movement is another of these self enlightenment deals and the beautiful temple (currently being replaced by a disgraceful waste of contributors' funds by a building twice the size and three times the intricacy of Notre Dame in </span><st1:city><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">Paris</span></st1:place></st1:city></span><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;">) was manned by devotees.<br /><br />Many of these devotees were gap year students and backpackers who had received the call (or had been smoking too many strange substances) sort of a throw back to the 60's flower people. The older ones were of a type that would not make go of anything in the real world - like monks everywhere I suppose - and drifted along in Nirvana, flogging Yoga and Meditation bookets to the tourists or dancing in a state of euphoria to the drums and cymbals. It looked like about half the devotees were of some western nationalty while the rest were Indian. Bev went to have a look in the temple while I contemplated a tofu burger or vegetarian steak for lunch.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Leaving Nabadwep we ran into the mother of all traffic jams. There was some sort of communist meeting blocking the highway through a large town (</span></span><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;">West Bengal</span></st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444;"><span style="background-color: white;"> is the only Indian communist state). The "highway" was a divided 4 lane affair running in and out of town and the trucks had been blocked but continued to pour into the fray from north and south. Never letting a chance go by they then flooded across the divider into the opposite carriageway and coupled with the chancers up the inside we had several thousand trucks six abreast facing each other in the middle of town. All this mixed with Tuk Tuks, motorcycles, three wheel bikes, rickshaws and people, goats and cows added to the gaeity of the occasion with the mob in the gathering lisrtening to speeches at three thousand decibels from giant loud speakers.<br /><br />I went up the inside, driving through vegetable stalls, jumping ditches and pushing people aside until finally stopped. It looked like days in place with more trucks pouring into the mess from north and south by the minute. Using my fluent Bengali plus sign language I offered $2 to a likely looking lad who started dragging bikes and rickshaws aside just enough to turn us out into a tiny foot traffic only laneway. Scraping down the lane we finally popped out into the rice fields. We bounced our way along the buffalo cart tracks on top of the paddy bunds in a huge circle around town before heading back to the highway.</span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Unfortunately my man misjudged the extent of the herd packing in from the north and we popped out of an alley into the side of packed trucks, six wide, facing the opposite direction of those from which we had escaped. Yelling and waving - everyone remains completely calm- he got trucks inching back and forward to enable the Suzuki to scrape its mirrors through the gaps. We went through stalls, had to be helped out of a huge ditch by 30 people when four wheel drive was inadequate and finally broke free.<br /><br />We passed truck loads of soldiers coming down to try to sort out the shambles - good luck!<br /><br />We head off tomorrow from Darjeeling across a couple of ridge lines (4 hours drive for 70km!) to Kalimpong which is another hill station, quieter than Darjeeling but the assembly and launching place for all the early attempts on Everest including Hillary. We will stay in the pukka 1800's hotel the climbers all used, just to get a bit of atmosphere.<br /><br />Lang and Bev</span></span></span><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br /></span><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br /><!--[endif]--></span><span lang="EN-AU" style="color: #444444; font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> <span class="apple-converted-space"><b> </b></span><strong>Further Indian Adventures</strong><b><br /></b>The trip from </span><st1:city><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Darjeeling</span></st1:place></st1:city><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> to Kalimpong took about 3 hours for 45km. It was a seriously steep winding road down into the </span><st1:place><st1:placename><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Teesta</span></st1:placename><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><st1:placetype><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">River</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> valley then up the other side. At one stage we were held up in a line of several hundred vehicles while the bulldozers worked to clear a landslide blocking the way.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">It is very peaceful on these waits as the noise of the vehicle bouncing around falls silent and we can observe the beautiful forest and hills. Numerous monkeys entertain alongside the road and because of the altitude it is about 22deg. A pity to get the signal to move on.<br /><br />As predicted we found Kalimpong more sedate than </span><st1:city style="background-color: white;"><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Darjeeling</span></st1:place></st1:city><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">. A very similar hill-station town but less traffic and better shops. We went for a walk to buy some famous Kalimpong cheese – brought by Jesuit missionaries a hundred years ago. I don't think their missionary efforts were a roaring success but their dairy remains producing supposedly the only western style cheese in </span><st1:country-region style="background-color: white;"><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">India</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="background-color: white;">. Its reputation is well deserved – a delicious vintage Cheddar flavour.</span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white;">We pulled into the historic Himalayan Hotel (as previously mentioned harking back to the Raj and stopping place for every explorer, scientist and mountaineer for a hundred years. Fire places, oak panelling, brass trumpet record player and English club atmosphere). I noticed the vehicle leaning upon investigating a change in handling after a few bigger bumps and bangs in the last few kilometres up the hill into town. I discovered a broken rear spring main leaf and the axle had swung back about 75mm.</span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white;">A phone call brought a mechanic to the hotel .An hour later he was back with a jacks and a helper, fitted a new genuine Suzuki spring complete with new bushes and pins. Total cost for parts and labour - $21.</span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white;">Heading down the mountain we returned to the plains to travel through numerous tea plantations in the Dooars District, going east towards the twin India/Bhutan border towns of Jaigon/Phuentsoling. Along the way we passed Jaldapara Refuge where some of the last One-horned Rhinos are thankfully making a comeback.<br /><br />Arriving at the </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Bhutan</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> border gate we were met by Megraj with whom I had worked for three months ten years </span><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">ago at the Bhutan Food Corporation while doing logistics for the UN World Food Program. Megraj had us in a brand new hotel in Jaigon because, not having </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Bhutan</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> visas, Phuentsoling was out of bounds. We had a very pleasant meal that evening with Megraj, his wife, daughter and grandson. Being Bhutanese they can just wander back and forth across the border so they just walked into </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">India</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> to join us.<br /><br />Departing early we set off towards the </span><st1:place><st1:placename><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Brahmaputra</span></st1:placename><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><st1:placetype><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">River</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> along a particularly crook road. It took 9 hours solid, continuous driving to cover 350km. I had travelled this road many times during my stay in Bhutan (the roads in Bhutan were so steep and winding it was quicker to come down into India then cross back into Bhutan after a hundred km or more).<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br /><br />As before there were still regular threats from numerous independence splinter groups in </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Assam</span></st1:place></st1:country-region></span><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="background-color: white;">. We were commenting on the lack of trucks on the road when we came upon a village with perhaps a thousand trucks all parked up. We drove past them and started seeing armed border police and regular army soldiers all along the road. We were stopped a couple of times and questioned then let go. Finally along the deserted road came a truck full of soldiers leading at 40kph a line of trucks 5 kilometres long nose to tail..<br /><br />It was too hard to have two escorts so the trucks going in our direction had been waiting all night for the west-bound escort to arrive to turn around to accompany them on their way east.</span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white;">It was good for us as the road was clear for 100km through the threat area. We were stopped at one check point and the young officer said “You must go with the escort. Don't travel lonely.” Hop on the back of a line of 1,000 crawling trucks for 100km – I don't think so! We opted to travel lonely without further incident.<br /><br />We arrived a Guwahati the biggest city in </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Assam</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> on the </span><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Brahmaputra</span></st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">. It was a noisy, dirty industrial centre with no interest other than it was a major base for the heroic efforts of the air crews flying “over the hump” to resupply southern </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">China</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> during WW2.<br /><br />Next morning we set off south, back into the hills crossing into the first of the remote </span><st1:state><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">border states</span></st1:place></st1:state><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> of Meghalaya. As we climbed, the putrid smog of the </span><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Brahmaputra</span></st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> valley dispersed and we started to actually be able to see across a valley. Arriving in the lovely hill town of </span><st1:city><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Shillong</span></st1:place></st1:city><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> we booked into another Raj period rambling hotel. All very old world with fireplaces in the rooms. Shillong was capital of </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Assam</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> for many years when it could be reached easily from </span><st1:city><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Calcutta</span></st1:place></st1:city><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> but since the formation of </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Bangladesh</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> it now takes a 1,500km drive to get here so has reverted to a leafy hill resort with many schools, large hospitals and a very large military complex positioned in park-like barracks.<br /><br />We will spend two nights here before heading east for our appointments in Imphal and drive up to the </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;">Burma</span></st1:place></st1:country-region></span><span lang="EN-AU" style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="background-color: white;"> border.</span><span style="background-color: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><st1:country-region><st1:place><b><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-size: 16pt;">India</span></b></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><b><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-size: 16pt;"> </span></b></span><b><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-size: 16pt;">Final</span></b><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcVhLoDxhAv5ORVTiWmETBIEvkbyv86J4p9ARgiVi7hyphenhyphenyv4tR8mMI4PH-v2g3jcUSJQcLMSBiuroVMH6-OrTHbmnph1fZPuKVaWyjcbs2IYOai4l8xBemHSRvDFr3SKbspZW5NXkRgDMQ/s1600/2+2013+SAM_0700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcVhLoDxhAv5ORVTiWmETBIEvkbyv86J4p9ARgiVi7hyphenhyphenyv4tR8mMI4PH-v2g3jcUSJQcLMSBiuroVMH6-OrTHbmnph1fZPuKVaWyjcbs2IYOai4l8xBemHSRvDFr3SKbspZW5NXkRgDMQ/s320/2+2013+SAM_0700.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Shillong proved to be an interesting stay. Bev wandered around a small lake attached to the botanical gardens and, being Sunday, it was crowded with families. She was continuously stopped by people to have her photo taken with them so they could show pictures of their blonde friend from<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Australia</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">The weather was just right, dry and in the low 20’s. In another couple of months it will be very different. Only 30 minutes drive away sits the town of<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Mawsynram</span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">which in a recent monsoon season had 26,000mm (1,000 inches) of rain over a 4 month period only slightly more than average. The area around Shillong is recognized as the wettest place on earth.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Bev and I wandered down the hill to the Shillong archery field to witness what must be the strangest gambling venue in the world. Every afternoon, 7 days a week, a large group gathers at<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:time hour="15" minute="30"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">3.30pm</span></st1:time><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">. The archery field is in a walled enclosure less than 50 metres square. A straw target about the size of a man is positioned in one corner and back from that is a long semi-circular covered (remember it rains a lot) walkway. All along the walkway archers from two different clubs each stack about a dozen small arrows in front of them. When the whistle blows everyone starts releasing their arrows at the target, seemingly hardly caring to aim. With only 10 minutes of shooting time and maybe 30 archers there is a continuous stream of arrows in the air and the target starts to look like a porcupine.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">The whistle blows and shooting finishes. One asks the question, why? This is answered by looking at the dozen bookmaker’s stalls, it is a betting game. When shooting stops, officials go forward and pull the armloads of arrows from the target. Everyone crowds around as the judges stack the arrows in groups of 10 in a rack with small square boxes. At last the chief judge and a scrutineer from each club count the arrows – in our case this was 433. The judge calls out “33”; there is a sigh from the crowd who immediately leave the grounds, and a small number rush up to the bookies to collect their money. The whole show is over in 30 minutes.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">The bet is on the last two digits so those who chose 33 win. It is nothing more than a roulette wheel with 100 numbers giving a 100:1 chance but a lot more interesting. If you took 50 numbers with the bookies you would have a good 2:1 chance. In other words you decide what your odds are by taking more numbers but like all gambling, even if you took 99 numbers, in the end you can never win!</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Loading up the next morning early we headed into the hills to go to Silchur. This small city is on the bend of a large tributary of the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:place><st1:placename><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Brahmaputra</span></st1:placename><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><st1:placetype><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">River</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">which meant a day in the mountains before descending back down to near sea level and re-entering<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Assam</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">. The road can only be described as terrible. Narrow bench-cuts in the mountains, broken or non-existent surface and temporary bridges across deep gorges were our lot for the day. In one of the few small towns we had a flat tyre, luckily near a tin lean-to which did puncture repairs.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">While I stayed with the car Bev wandered out the back where hundreds of women were squatting down breaking up lumps of the locally mined coal with small hammers. Earning around $1 a day they produced such even lumps of coal you would think it had been put through a sorting screen. Alongside the heaps men were filling cane baskets with about 50kg of coal, then two of them would lift it onto the head of a third man who walked up a wooden ramp to dump it in the back of a truck. Hundreds of these head loads were required to fill the 10 ton truck to its standard 20 ton / 100% overload capacity. No wonder the roads were strewn with trucks with failed tyres, differentials and springs. 80% of the millions of trucks on the road are TATA, one of the worlds great industrial concerns – they even own Jaguar/Rover, airlines, steel works and have major shareholding in several Australian coal and iron ore mines.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">From Silchur we now finally headed into the real frontier district. Up until very recently, a trip to Manipur state on the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Burma</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">border was very difficult for even Indians let alone foreigners. Indians needed Restricted Line permits and foreigners needed almost unobtainable Prohibited Area permits and had to travel in organized groups. It was only 220km from Silchur to Imphal and we could find lots of advice on the road but nobody who had actually traveled it! Leaving the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Brahmaputra</span></st1:place><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">valley we were immediately embarked on one of the slowest, roughest journeys we had ever been on.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">The road was far from busy and within 35km of Silchur we had wound up on a narrow rough road to about 5,000 feet. Here we entered the State of<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Manipur</span></st1:place></st1:state><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">and were stopped by our first army check-point. There was lots of confusion and discussion about whether we were legal and even a suggestion that not having a Prohibited Area permit, although no longer required, still prevented our entry. Anyhow after the sergeant, called the Lieutenant, who called the Captain who called the Major, it was all smiles and in a flurry of passport stamping and we were away.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">“How many foreigners have you had through here?” <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>“There were 6 Germans in an official bus last month but never anyone by themselves”.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">As Piglet said to Pooh Bear, the road just got worserer and worserer. It was totally uncared for kilometers at a time forcing us to travel at 15-20kph in first and second gear. Being dry the potholes were full of talcum powder bulldust and having no air-conditioning our windows were down leaving us totally covered in white dust. Passing the occasional truck we had to race past bouncing at 30kph with our outside wheels knocking stones off a thousand foot drop into the valley below. Of course guard rails were something far into Manipur’s future.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfc7XGVXu7ui2sjSqbeseKOC1EjvFQjTmkTXQzk8ooslDBE72Jp4xRD9hkiRUIf8xqwJ9ys-X8gIwpKMXFZ4bAqGFwImGRlHI1PYOreUCLtXgGmcNaZmac85sVMpkenKLQQAULbuULQCU/s1600/3+2013+P1070392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfc7XGVXu7ui2sjSqbeseKOC1EjvFQjTmkTXQzk8ooslDBE72Jp4xRD9hkiRUIf8xqwJ9ys-X8gIwpKMXFZ4bAqGFwImGRlHI1PYOreUCLtXgGmcNaZmac85sVMpkenKLQQAULbuULQCU/s320/3+2013+P1070392.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">The next of about 6 army checkpoints produced a request to carry two soldiers all the way to Imphal to go on leave. When it became obvious that refusal may result in “difficulties” <span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>and delay in our further progress the two friendly young fellows climbed in the back to sit on the huge tin box I had purchased to contain our suitcases etc. They hung on, covered in dust and bouncing around, for the rest of the day.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">After 10 hours driving from Silchar, it became instantly dark as it does in the tropics. The car lights were terrible and as the corners required maximum lock to negotiate they gave us little help to see around the turn. Suddenly the Suzuki stopped. A fuel blockage which stopped us 5 times in the next hour was extremely frustrating. Imphal was so close but we were still going up, up, up. Managing to get the car started each time we eventually plunged down a near vertical switchback road, feeling our way around darkened corners down into the huge Imphal valley. Dropping off our passengers we booked into the hotel 12 hours actual driving and only 220km from our morning start point.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">The purpose of this section of the trip was to survey the border between<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">India</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">and<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Myanmar</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">for a proposed First<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">England</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">to<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Australia</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> D</span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">rive recreation in the future. We had found CK (his real name is totally beyond western tongues) who was a businessman also working for Manipur State Trade Development. He organized a trip around Imphal, which is a not unpleasant city. Of interest to me was the huge<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:place><st1:placetype><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Commonwealth</span></st1:placetype><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><st1:placename><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">War</span></st1:placename><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><st1:placetype><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Cemetery</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">and<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:place><st1:placename><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Japanese</span></st1:placename><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><st1:placename><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">War</span></st1:placename><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><st1:placetype><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Cemetery</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">. Imphal was the furthest the Japanese reached in their invasion of<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">India</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">and I was surprised by the size of the action with 7 Divisions involved. Bev was very interested in a visit to the local weavers who produce a wide variety of products on their ancient, huge wooden looms.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">The following day we went with CK 100km over the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Naga Hills</span></st1:place><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">to the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Myanmar</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">border. This road is newly surfaced and, although very twisty (it is the first time I have ever seen Bev feeling car sick) only took a couple of hours. In 1928 when Birtles became the first person to cross from<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">India</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">to<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Burma</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">almost exactly on the path of today’s road it took over 6 weeks. In an heroic effort he and his young Canadian co-driver Percy Stollery almost carried the car over these mountains emerging in<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Burma</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">nearly starved and sick from malaria. True heroes they were!</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcZqJoJ76WrobU8zLFDPc0HLl8b4UYxcwbXMFcbv2mTV2DjAS3aJZcsQGk15c50U_JwYYu_Ed6mDkNvDxF-7qmXUTRloEieJ5sLNKESYTc6GTrRqtNB6VabG0QCKzpRhEoJ3aAQGazf1w/s1600/Lang+soldier+Burma+border.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcZqJoJ76WrobU8zLFDPc0HLl8b4UYxcwbXMFcbv2mTV2DjAS3aJZcsQGk15c50U_JwYYu_Ed6mDkNvDxF-7qmXUTRloEieJ5sLNKESYTc6GTrRqtNB6VabG0QCKzpRhEoJ3aAQGazf1w/s320/Lang+soldier+Burma+border.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">The small twin towns of Moreh/Tammu are at the foot of the hills in the first of the great north/south valleys of<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Burma</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">. About 5 km out of Moreh, the crossing between India<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>and<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Myanmar</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">consists of a WW2 temporary Bailey bridge on a deserted narrow road. There is a relaxed Indian Army check point a few hundred metres back on one side and a small blue tin shed with one man on the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Myanmar</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">side. In the one and half hours we sat on the edge of the pretty, small border river no cars and only two motorcycles crossed, without stopping at either check point. The governments have an agreement to allow locals to cross to access traditional cross-border tribal areas.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Back in town is the foot crossing and this was different. There is a continuous stream of people passing the gate (seemingly with no checks). They are all carrying huge loads on their heads from the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">Myanmar</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">side. All things from vegetables to Chinese cotton goods came across. There is a man sitting in the shade on the Indian side with a note book which we later found out was the accounting for the trade across this international border. The volume is so high and the loads so varied that the official trade reports merely mention how many “head loads” have entered.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">CK organized a press conference so we could promote our expedition and hopefully gather support. 15 journalist and a TV crew turned up at the hotel (news is pretty slow in Imphal) which resulted in a slot on the evening TV news plus front page articles with photos in at least 6 newspapers we were able to purchase next day. Unfortunately only one was in English so who knows what facts they got confused. Free hotel accommodation, the first of what we hope is more support, was the immediate result.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: white;"><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">We did our sums on a 2,000km drive all the way back to Kolkata, sold the car and hopped on a plane. After being cared for in the final couple of days by Ravi Kumar again, we negotiated support from the fabulous Tollygunge Club and have several influential people working throughout </span><st1:country-region><st1:place><span style="background: white; color: #444444;">India</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="background: white; color: #444444;"> on further support.</span><span style="background: white; color: #444444; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-71339486217464954952011-12-29T20:47:00.004+10:002011-12-29T20:59:23.444+10:00The Great Side Car Expedition<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hLPxGzpV4Z-sN9z4so6ddvTpeLN4DUPaf0RTz-qqs11_e3hDDJY7jUrMAuAdTSaUNKuTvrgsMYXvc_LRHbaLl2BqWyZ3oTZlwx0xSQCUyMAq4kdGsSVRadB_Qw8eCUFfJHoXxXMU7L8/s1600/Lang+Bev+Dnepr+Posed.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 248px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5691501155123212498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2hLPxGzpV4Z-sN9z4so6ddvTpeLN4DUPaf0RTz-qqs11_e3hDDJY7jUrMAuAdTSaUNKuTvrgsMYXvc_LRHbaLl2BqWyZ3oTZlwx0xSQCUyMAq4kdGsSVRadB_Qw8eCUFfJHoXxXMU7L8/s320/Lang+Bev+Dnepr+Posed.JPG" /></a><br /><strong>Ukraine to Italy via Istanbul by Russian Army Side Car</strong><br /><br />The story below (starting from the BOTTOM) relates the adventures of 20 intrepid riders who rode old military 650cc Dnepr sidecars through Ukraine, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Greece, Albania, Croatia to Italy.<br /><br /><em>By going to the history/archives on the right you may bring up each month. The history/archives also hold all the various expedition stories from past years- just click on the year and month.<br /><br /></em>All photos may be clicked on to bring up full size.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-28806846352388404152011-06-09T23:58:00.007+10:002011-12-30T16:24:55.211+10:00Genoa, Italy Finale<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvTMxX0F1KAlPf4UFA_KZGM4oNNkfh_xOIEpQ7ehP5FOm_zmDF4TiZDcAyXOhOPjkEaGFdHTXfKi_Tswpm17Cjs20-W1UoStemF4N_tDC9HpLCNMj67-DHEb-5oCK-ellZGeCGW5Jf5AE/s1600/D+Shipping+Bikes+Genoa+2.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 323px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5691504166182036642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvTMxX0F1KAlPf4UFA_KZGM4oNNkfh_xOIEpQ7ehP5FOm_zmDF4TiZDcAyXOhOPjkEaGFdHTXfKi_Tswpm17Cjs20-W1UoStemF4N_tDC9HpLCNMj67-DHEb-5oCK-ellZGeCGW5Jf5AE/s320/D+Shipping+Bikes+Genoa+2.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxsWP2VhJTsvXEab_GBPS1ueRiF98lFyN4iD2UenDkNiP4w0tHLF2nS4GgpzTNDlA-7uCEBrTBx9dHzeXo46naezy20MqdmzftfqlyIftgZSsfF21g8DXLpd-1-OgHNAwtLwlf9LrZzE/s1600/D+Shiping+Bikes+Genoa.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5691503848568393282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxsWP2VhJTsvXEab_GBPS1ueRiF98lFyN4iD2UenDkNiP4w0tHLF2nS4GgpzTNDlA-7uCEBrTBx9dHzeXo46naezy20MqdmzftfqlyIftgZSsfF21g8DXLpd-1-OgHNAwtLwlf9LrZzE/s320/D+Shiping+Bikes+Genoa.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>Thurs 9th June<br /><br /><br /><br /><p>Thank you to the riders who took photos shown in the trip blog.</p><br /><br /><p>Lee and Phil in particular spent a lot of effort on recording what they saw. Phil's collection can be seen in full on his site.<br /><a href="http://www.ratichon2605.blogspot.com/">http://www.ratichon2605.blogspot.com/</a><br /><br />The trip is well and truly over. Yesterday we tucked 15 bikes into two<br />forty foot containers which will be shipped to Brisbane and the additional<br />two bikes went into a 20 foot container to go to New Zealand.<br /><br />We came into Genoa on Sunday and Lang was able to organise the shipping<br />first up on Monday. On Tuesday everyone scrubbed their bikes until they<br />gleamed, getting rid of 6 weeks of road grime and oil leaks. They were<br />then put into a warehouse on the dock overnight. It only took a few hours<br />yesterday with a lot of grunting and groaning and only millimeters to<br />spare to pack them into the containers and the shipping agent had a crew<br />on hand to do all the tie down, before the doors were shut and sealed.<br /><br />As always the end of a trip brings very mixed emotions.<br /><br />And, as usual, this project has given Lang and me challenges we could never<br />have planned for in advance. Lang as always has the capacity to just keep<br />his focus on solutions and shut out all the negatives enabling things to<br />keep moving forward. This does not always please a few people, pushed beyond their comfort zone, but in the end there is only ever one way - forward.</p><br /><br /><p><br />In any group we have ever been involved with there is the handful of people<br />who perform above and beyond expectation. We had that handful as usual on this trip and to these people we owe an enormous debt of gratitude.<br /><br />Hub Jones really stood out as the person who was entirely dependable<br />and forever a calm problem solver. Even today several riders don't appreciate it was Hub's tireless efforts that kept them going. His work ethic and practical skills make<br />him a giant amongst his peers. </p><br /><p>Lang and I will have some down time before our trip home staying with our<br />good friends Sandro and Wilmy in Garlenda Italy and then we have a few<br />days with John and Nui Salter in Thailand.<br /><br />As with all our trips I like to remind people the reason we undertake such<br />things:</p><br /><p>In the ten countries we travelled through on this trip we made<br />connections with local people that have left an incredible impact and<br />reasurred me that mankind is basically good and caring.<br /><br />Einstein also said about travelling,<br /><br />All time is now<br />It takes you out of the everyday routine<br />The leaden weight of routine<br />The fetters of habit<br />The cloak of cares and<br />Slavery of home<br />It allows you to experience the here and now.<br /></p><br /><br /><p>And finally Lang's favorite quote from Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />"I travel not to go anywhere<br />But to go<br />I travel for travel's sake<br />The great affair is to move"<br /><br />Bev</p></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-35806322528802520422011-06-06T00:08:00.001+10:002011-06-06T00:08:32.245+10:00Genoa ItalySun 5th June, Genoa<p>Good News<p>We have all arrived in Genoa. That is all except Stuart Wood who in Poppi<br>decided to visit friends in Venice and catch up with us tomorrow.<p>The last few days have seen only minor problems with the bikes and all<br>arriving under their own steam. Lizzy Lada has had a few issues with her<br>carburettor but somehow manages to get me to my destination. She has done<br>extraordinary service hauling such a heavy load of spare parts during the<br>six week period.<p>Nadia has been riding with Sasha on his bike so I have done all but one<br>leg of the whole trip on my own. Early in the piece I did get plenty of<br>company at the end of a tow rope with hand signals our only form of<br>communication. It is a bit sad to say that I have formed a very special<br>bond with my very faithful GPS and get quite a feeling of well being<br>hearing her calm voice giving me directions.<p>From Poppi we had a camping night in Pisa, checked out the leaning tower<br>in this beautiful ancient walled city. We were going to stay two nights<br>but the consensus of opinion was to do the short hop to Levanto and see<br>the Cinque Terre. Many of us did the train trip between the five towns and<br>a few of us did the cliff face walk between the towns of this spectacular<br>UNESCO listed area.<p>Tonight we will have a finale dinner and then over the next few days<br>organise the shipping of the vehicles to our home ports. Most of the group<br>have arrangements to fly home later in the week.<p>BevUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-24582273144848630912011-06-05T03:55:00.001+10:002011-06-05T03:55:10.914+10:00Poppi, ItalyThurs 2 June<p>We arrived in Ancona, Italy on the overnight ferry from Zadar in Croatia<br>sailing at 10.00pm and arriving at 7.00am on the 31st May.<p>At present we are at a camping site in Poppi on the Eastern side of<br>Florence. Here we are spending two days as we had two major break downs<br>yesterday.<p>We did some serious mountain climbing travelling from Urbino where we had<br>camped out side the beautiful walled city the previous night and here to<br>Poppi. Sasha's bike broke a bearing and Susan Horrobin seized the<br>universal joint on her bike. After towing Sasha a short distance we were<br>lucky enough to flag down a passing tow truck and ended up with the two<br>bikes arriving on the back of the truck at the camp site ready for the<br>repair work.<p>Here in Italy it is working out better to camp as the towns are so crowded<br>and this gives us plenty of space to work on the bikes and spread out a<br>bit.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-39203625052843599012011-05-31T02:02:00.001+10:002011-05-31T02:02:48.451+10:00Split, CroatiaSunday 29th May<p>We are all now in Split, Croatia.<p>Yesterday we had a long day from Tivat along the coast and three border<br>crossings. We passed from Montenegro into Bosnia and then into Croatia. It<br> is a very beautiful part of the world and Dubrovnik in particular is<br>spectacular.<p> This long run was to enable us to have two days in the one place and<br>allow Sasha to do some long needed major repairs.<p>Late in the day Robert Hazell's bike had differential problems and was<br>unable to continue. Nadia and I had to double back with the spare parts<br>and between Lang , Brian and Robert they got the bike mobile, but the five<br>of us decided breaking down in the dark was not an option so stayed 90kms<br>short of Split and joined the rest of the group here early in the morning.<p>BevUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-22553323689304733482011-05-27T14:12:00.000+10:002011-05-27T14:13:40.280+10:00Durres, Albania27th May<p>Phil Barnaart is downloading some great photos see them on<br><a href="http://ratichon2605.blogspot.com">ratichon2605.blogspot.com</a><p>Last night we spent just south of the very historic town of Durres.<br>Albania is similar to Romania and Bulgaria, in that they are a mix of vey<br>primative life styles in the rural areas and very flash coastal resort<br>areas. We have seen hand ploughing and seed planting, ancient old farm<br>machinery in use and donkey and cart as their general means of transport.<p>Tonight we will be in Tivat, Montenegro<p>BevUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-38830324773360640602011-05-27T05:17:00.000+10:002011-05-27T05:18:01.349+10:00AlbaniaWed 25th May<p>I am at present sitting at the Greek / Albanian border and have been for<br>the last two hours, having left Florino early this morning, .The mountain<br>climb was all but impossible but the little car and all the bike made it<br>in first gear.<p>Already 10 of our riders have gone across the border and reported it was a<br>hassle free event. Lang and Hub have left me here to twiddle my thumbs and<br>they have taken the Lizzy back to tow in Marcel. We believe he has had a<br>major problem .<p>Over the last few days we have had a lot of small problems, mostly<br>electrical, and all have been rectified along the way. Ivan had an<br>electrical problem and Lee bought him a car battery and with jumper leads<br>hooked it up carring it in his sidecar.<p>Everyone is really sorting out their own bike's idiosyncrasies and doing<br>more and more of their own preventative and repair work<p>Yesterday morning at Thessaloniki Lee Harman decided to leave the group to<br>catch a ferry across to Southern Italy and will ride from there up to the<br>north. For the rest of the group we have booked an overnight ferry from<br>Zadar Croatia to Ancona Italy on the 30th..<p>I have had a message from Sasha and Nadia and they are about 300 kms<br>behind us, and should catch us up in another day. We are certainly looking<br>forward to another mechanic and the spares he is bringing.<p>Evening of 25th at Progradeci, Albania<p>Marcel's problem was not as major as first thought and he was able to ride<br>under his own power from the border, albiet with the car battery in the<br>sidecar fix.His starter shorted out, flattening the battery and this was<br>fixed immediately.<p>The scenery here with a huge lake and mountains down to the water is<br>spectacular. Prices are cheap and the small town very pretty. Most bikes<br>required only daily maintenance and everyone was relaxed well before<br>dinner.<p>Sasha and Nadia arrived at the hotel at 10.00pm absolutely exhausted<br>after a 500+ kms ride non stop.<p>BevUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-89187054315536232412011-05-23T15:19:00.000+10:002011-05-23T15:20:13.650+10:00Thassos, GreeceSunday 22nd<p>We are all here on Thassos Island in Greece enjoying the sunny weather and<br>beautiful surrounds. Some have hired modern bikes, cars or little motor<br>scooters to visit monasteries, Roman ruins or enjoy the local fare at<br>fabulous waterfront cafes.<p>Most of the group had two nights here but five of us were again doing<br>catch up.<p>Sadly Paul and Martin pulled out of the group. Paul's bike has given him a<br>run of bad luck and they have decided to finish their holiday riding BMW's<br>through Europe.<p>Paul was going to leave his bikeat the side of the road, but our mechanics<br>in the group saw the potential to get some essential spares we may need<br>before the trip ends. Paul generously offered to come to the border with<br>it to get it across into Greece with his paperwork.<p>We saw Robert and Brian go back into Turkey and tow the bike to the border<br>where Lang met them with Lizzy Lada and towed them back to Alexandroupoli.<br>Here in the back blocks we did a Zorba the Greek. We stripped the bike of<br>all useful parts loaded the bikes and car to the gunnels disposed of the<br>frame and as it was so late in the day we spent the night at Komitimi<br>enroute to Thasos.<p>Lizzie is now so loaded she can not carry another gram. The electric fan<br>stopped working so every time I start the car I have to lift the bonnet<br>and connect the wires straight to the battery to stop her overheating. Her<br>tiny 1,200cc engine is still bravely pulling the car, her load and often a<br>half ton of bike as well.<p>Our bike problems are definitely being sorted with fewer faults every day.<br>The regular problems are just the price of driving 75 year old technology<br>6,000km across Europe. Most people are becoming good at diagnosing faults<br>and if they can not fix them themselves, can give Hub an indication of<br>what is going on.<p>Hub continues to perform miracles and has kept everyone going. We are all<br>very grateful for his dedicated mechanical work.<p>Moral is still very high and the continuous change of scene is pleasing<br>the majority. Everyone is looking forward to the week or so running up the<br>Adriatric coast through Greece, Albania, Montenegro, Croatia etc.<p>Off to Thessalonika tomorrow then into the hills.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-34985154605547858902011-05-20T16:04:00.000+10:002011-05-20T16:05:00.762+10:00Gallopoli PeninsularWe all spent the night here on the Gallopoli Peninsular at a camping hotel<br>site only 8kms south of Anzac Cove.<p>Today we will cross the border into Greece and overnight in Alexandroupoli.<p>For another version of our trip and some photos Paul Barnard has a blog<br><a href="http://paulbgsa.blogspot.com">paulbgsa.blogspot.com</a><p>BevUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-40751607118620367302011-05-19T16:10:00.000+10:002011-05-19T16:11:11.483+10:00Canakkale, TurkeyThus 19th May<p>Yesterday the mobile contingent left Canakkale and went the short distance<br>over to the Gallipoli Peninsular, crossing the Dardanelles by ferry.<p> Eight of us remained to work on three disabled bikes in the hotel car<br>park. When Lang and Hub stripped Lang's bike they found a bolt had come<br>loose in the gear fly wheel. Fortunately it had not caused any severe<br>damage and did not need an engine change . Never the less it was major<br>job which took all day to fix. At the end of the day everyone was tired<br>so we decided to stay another night in Canakkale.<p>This is an area steeped in military history, and to us Australians<br>Gallipoli obviously has very special significance.<p>On the peninsular hillside opposite Canakkale gigantic letters spell out<br>the first few words of a poem commemorating the stuggle at Gallipoli in<br>1915.<p>The translation is<p>Traveller, halt! The soil you heedlessly tread once witnessed the end of<br>an era.<br>Listen! In this quiet mound there once beat the heart of a nation.<p>BevUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8630646354459126335.post-90279853084784582512011-05-18T05:05:00.001+10:002011-05-18T05:05:29.677+10:00Istanbul / BursaOn Ferry out of Istanbul 27th May<p>The run into Istanbul was certainly a challenge as everyone in the entire<br>city was out having a Sunday drive and picnics along the water front,<br>making a grid lock on all major roads. All our group except Lang made it<br>under their own steam which was quite a feat. I again had to tow Lang the<br>entire day.<p>The hotel was on a steep hill and the promised parking was on a very<br>narrow busy street. The next morning we risked having all bikes towed away<br>so a hasty search for parking found a vacant block not too far away. The<br>area made any major work on Lang's bike impossible so another day of<br>towing until we are able to do an engine change.<p>The majority of the group were able to do some sightseeing in around town<br>on our second day. I even managed to fit in a visit to a Turkish bath to<br>recharge my batteries.<p>Dan Gridley flew out to OZ after handing over the bike he had been riding<br>for the last two weeks to Dave Griffith who will be with us for the rest<br>of the trip.<p>This morning after a 6am start we are now on a ferry crossing the Sea of<br>Marmara to Bursa, from where we have a 250kms drive to our overnight stop<br>in Canakkale. Tomorrow after another short ferry ride we will be on the<br>Gallipoli Peninsular where we will spend the next two days.<p>We have decided to double up a lot of our remaining days to allow on going<br>maintenance on the bikes as well as a chance to relax and enjoy the<br>country side we are passing through.<p>BevUnknownnoreply@blogger.com