33/ 100 Hero Dog

You’ll be pleased to know this is the final part of our Jodhpur to Varanasi travelogue. Although being close to our destination at Dashashwamedh Ghat the journey ahead was still complex, but fun all the same.

Once we had arrived at Varanasi airport (which, it is worth noting, is a very beautiful airport inside) I had to blindly extract my penknife by touch alone from my large rucksack in order to cut the sturdy security bindings that were added in Jodhpur so that I could release the straps and actually carry it. This took quite some time…

Outside we found our taxi and drove along the motorway, where there was a ridiculous amount of fairy-lights on every single lamp post, into Varanasi itself. Varanasi is a town at a dead end. It is set along the banks of the river Ganges and, whilst there is a bridge at each end of the city, like most people we were heading to the middle part where the roads simply ended and the cars, busses and taxis amassed in huge swarms.

From previous trips we also new to expect the main roads to be closed behind the bright yellow Police barriers that you will see dotted about in every corner of India. Our taxi driver knew the score and took every available shortcut in the slowly thickening traffic. Eventually, even for an Indian driver, the traffic became too dense and he simply couldn’t squeeze his little car through any more gaps so he stopped about a mile from our destination.

Lucky for us we had been through all this before so we weren’t surprised when a cycle-rickshaw driver pulled up alongside. The captain of this rickshaw , like all of them, seemed to be at least 110 years old. There was a lot of chatter back and forth, concerned phone calls and pointing at us and our luggage until eventually I realised what was going on. To save some money the taxi guy wanted both of us, and our luggage (admittedly very light by tourist standards) to fit onto one bike. A quick tot-up put our combined weight, with bags, at over 200kg and it was no wonder that the rickshaw captain looked relieved when I said I would willingly fork out the extra ₹100 (£1.00) for a second bike and rider.

Off we went, very slowly, through the dark streets. Me in front of Fiona, trying not to fall off while worrying about her falling off. The streets narrowed, then became a wide path before deteriorating into a narrow cobbled lane where they could pedal no more. At first they each pushed us and our luggage but it seemed ridiculous. I hated the idea of these old chaps, who were skin and bones pushing us and our bags along impossible paths. Eventually I persuaded them to stop and we indicated that we would just walk. We paid them their meagre fee, plus a little tip, and made the last half mile on our own two legs, through streets and alleys that soon became familiar from our past trips.