tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-171134082011-11-17T06:21:15.103-05:00In 1996 I rode a Royal Enfield Bullet solo for five months around the edge of India. The writings on this blog are from that time period. I had lived and worked in India for three years prior to my journey. It was because I lived and worked there for so long and knew its diversity that I wanted to get to know India better. But the journey did not teach me so much about India as it did about myself. © 1997. C.L. Stambush, All Rights Reserved WorldwideC.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.comBlogger201100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-84106191777098924252009-07-30T20:18:00.003-04:002009-07-30T20:22:29.671-04:00

Hey, just wanted to let you know that in a few days I'm going to change the look of this blog. It may go to a new address or I might just freshen up this site. Not sure just yet. In the mean time I'm thinking of ways to make this a bit more interactive for readers and fun.I was recently interviewed by an inspirational website called the Mt. Everest Mind Camp (www.mteverestmindcamp.com). Check it

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-73391016344176292062009-03-07T16:39:00.003-05:002009-03-07T16:47:09.518-05:00

Hello,I wanted to let you all know that I'm still here although, as you know, I've not been posting anything new. I have been locked away in a cabin on the coast of Maine for the winter, and boy has it been an wild winter. I can tell you that the work on the book is coming along. The book, while the story is the same, is very different than the postings in this blog. I think, hope, if you buy and

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-52714402361936470622007-07-24T14:30:00.000-04:002007-07-24T14:35:12.319-04:00

Hello, readers --I wanted to let you all know that I'm still working on the writing of the book. I've been back in India for the past 2 months and now it is time to get back to the page. I thank you all for reading the past postings and hope you will still be interested in the story when it is published as a book.I'll be in touch with more news on that front as I have it. Keep your fingers

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-4142894810468579742006-12-07T10:36:00.000-05:002006-12-07T10:40:53.437-05:00

It seems someone has infiltrated my address book for this blog and is sending junk mail to readers. I profusely apologize for this and have taken steps to report the theft to Google. If you are still receiving these junk mailings, please let me hear from you. I'm doing everything I can to stop this.Again, I'm very sorry for the intrusions.cls

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1127681177519595892005-12-31T23:58:00.002-05:002010-04-07T16:15:15.401-04:00

Dear Readers,Welcome to the story of my solo motorcycle journey around India on a Royal Enfield Bullet in 1997. This blog reads from beginning to end, in chronilogical order like all stories. So... scroll to the end for the most current postings. There are dates by the title to help you know when that chapter was posted.New chapters will be posted the first of each month. This is slower than most

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1127679935842503952005-12-31T23:57:00.001-05:002009-05-10T16:45:04.890-04:00

I should start by telling you that I was not a motorcyclist when I decided to ride solo around India -- a journey that would last five months and carry me over roads stretching nearly 4,500 miles; a journey that would take me across scorching desert tracks, monsoon washed-out roads, and up mountains via switchback lanes. Before any of this happened, I had a good job and considered myself the

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1129579663684602002005-12-31T23:56:00.000-05:002006-05-26T14:11:30.453-04:00

In India, there is only one choice of bike to ride. She (as motorcycles are known) is called a "thumper" because of the beating sound her single-cylinder and exhaust system make. It is the sound of a giant's heart beating that cuts through the cacophony of India's every-day noise.The Townsend Cycle Company of Great Britain built the first Royal Enfield Bullet in the late 1880s. But since 1963,

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1127852073391874872005-12-31T23:55:00.000-05:002006-05-26T14:12:46.966-04:00

I talked my neighbor, Thomas, into going with me to shop for a bike. He had owned many motorcycles in his life (including a Bullet) and knew where to go and what to ask. The day was clear and bright when we climbed into the back of an auto rickshaw and headed for a dealer in Old Delhi. The twisted streets of Old Delhi were jammed with the ever-present round Ambassador cars (both private and taxis

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1128619155570484502005-12-31T23:54:00.000-05:002006-05-26T14:13:34.696-04:00

To get the bike home, I haggled Thomas into helping me fetch her. I hated the idea of riding on the back, but I wanted to arrive in one piece. I knew if I rode alone in rush hour, I stood a good chance of wrecking.When we got to my neighborhood (known as colonies in India) the sun had nearly set but I was determined to ride in an area I considered safe. In Nizamuddin East the streets were quiet

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1130711677327591472005-12-31T23:53:00.000-05:002006-05-26T14:14:01.346-04:00

The auto rickshaw driver stopped in front of a towering office building. Around it, men loitered under scraggly neem trees, spitting paan juice onto the stone steps that lead to the bureau of motor vehicle’s office. This was not my first visit to the bureau. I had come a week earlier to pick up a driving manual. I had climbed four flights of stairs and been directed by many men in the

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1133560361945394062005-12-31T23:52:00.000-05:002006-05-26T14:20:56.960-04:00

Bullets break down frequently (or so I was told) and I had no intention of being stuck in the middle of nowhere with a crapped-out bike. I figured I didn't need to know everything about Bullet repair but I needed to know the basics: tire changing, tappet adjustment, carburetor cleaning, chain tightening. I would have to add oil to Kali daily and for that I would carry a 3-gallon jug of 10w/30

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1136402635643853642005-09-19T14:20:00.000-05:002006-05-26T14:15:23.540-04:00

Sooner or later, the day had to come that I would leave New Delhi for the road. I think, in some ways, I had been stalling; afraid to take the very leap I had planned for in so many ways for so long. I had taken the riding course and had received my Indian driver’s license. For weeks I had worked with Nanna learning to repair Kali if – and when – she broke down in the middle of nowhere. My final

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1138749890472862882005-09-18T18:22:00.000-05:002006-05-26T14:15:04.570-04:00

When the alarm sounded at 4:30 am, I slapped it quiet and rolled over for a few more hours of shuteye. But when the sun woke me hours later, I was mad at myself for oversleeping. My plan to leave before the morning traffic grew to gridlock fizzled as I looked at the clock – 9 am. I glanced around the room wondering what to do first. My saddlebags rested in the corner, packed and ready to go while

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1141174837865372712005-09-17T19:41:00.000-05:002006-05-26T14:15:52.436-04:00

By the time I reached Jaipur – India’s famed Pink City – I was exhausted. A quick calculation of my first day’s progress told me I’d traveled only 170 miles in six hours of riding, making my average speed 28 miles per hour. The roads’ condition caused the slow ride, and while it didn’t make for record-breaking time it did give me a sore behind. I was not used to the saddle and vaguely wondered if

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1143930106781417912005-09-16T21:16:00.000-05:002006-05-26T14:16:16.926-04:00

“Kya hai?” asked the attendant as I pulled off my helmet at the gas station. I looked over at him – a thin young man in loose clothing – and saw five more men hanging around the pump leaning on each other and eyeing me, and what was strapped to my leg. Okay, I thought, here we go again. Since leaving New Delhi I had been surprised to discover the amount of attention the lathi I’d strapped to my

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1146533540136198842005-09-15T21:30:00.000-05:002006-05-26T14:16:40.776-04:00

The Captain fixed his eyes on me, steepled his fingers together and asked, “Are you sure you were not robbed?”Sure? Yes, I was sure. That camera bag with my journal fell off the bike while it was in motion. No robber is so smooth as to be able to pluck a bag from a bike at forty miles an hour. Still, Captain Dutt looked dubious as he extracted several sheets of blank paper from the bottom drawer

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1149194497706923762005-09-14T15:39:00.000-05:002006-06-01T16:45:34.723-04:00

His shadow crossed over me while I sat teetering on the edge of a cinder block feeling miserable. I knew he was there, waiting to talk to me but I did not want to talk to him. I had spent the morning attempts to see Captain Dutt to tell him I was leaving Pushkar, but he had not found time for me and I had given up and walked over to the bus stop in search of a cool drink.I walked along the row of

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1151791798643322692005-09-13T17:05:00.000-05:002006-07-01T18:13:00.673-04:00

I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. But did Captain Dutt listen to me? No. No. No.Now here was this young man, Murugan, telling me he and a bus driver saw my bag fall off Kali as their bus and my bike passed each other on the dusty road out of Pushkar. I had tried to get Captain Dutt to question the people at the bus stand; the one directly across from the police station, but he had informed me that

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1154550593904226522005-09-12T15:05:00.000-05:002006-08-07T14:13:02.183-04:00

“My uncle is not yet home from work,” said the stocky man on the porch. The three little girls who had scampered into the house when I said hello to them must have warned him of Murugan and mine’s arrival. Now they peer from behind his splayed, salwar-clad legs as he stood cross-armed guarding the home’s entrance.We looked at each longer than we should have and I began to wonder if we had entered

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17113408.post-1156964290159639682005-09-10T13:54:00.000-05:002006-08-30T14:58:10.190-04:00

The new posting will be late. I can't say when it will be posted since I just moved from the Midwest to NY to attend graduate school (creative nonfiction at Sarah Lawrence College).I will do my best to get something posted soon, but I'm pretty overloaded with orientation and a move across the country.Thanks for being loyal readers. I'll keep you posted on what is happening.cls

C.L. Stambushhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08045096656692468387noreply@blogger.com16