and later , at a Buddhist temple in Thailand . Despite its many falls and bashes , it survives and is now twenty-two years old so perhaps the blessings and prayers had some effect .
During our time together , we have had countless experiences that have left me scratching my head in disbelief and gratitude . Angels dressed as ordinary people appeared when I needed help . Motorcyclists have often come to my rescue . In Quito , Ecuador ’ s capital city , an angel in leathers saw me at the side of a busy road completely lost and puzzling over a hand-drawn map . He guided me out of the city and onto the right mountain track .
I was crossing a river in Java at what I thought was a shallow ford but had fallen sideways into a deep section . The only person I ’ d seen all day was a man with a machete in the jungle I ’ d ridden through but , as my luggage and exhaust pipe were filling up with river water , a couple on a moped appeared , helped me to lift the bike and directed me to a better crossing-place to my destination , a little-known turtle beach . That night I watched with wonder as a one-hundred-year-old turtle lay her eggs in the sand .
In a remote part of Kashmir , charming Indian Army medics and engineers appeared as if by magic when a companion was ill and my bike developed an oil-leak .
Both emergencies were dealt with by very able experts in their speciality .
Despite the other-worldliness of Asia , I had several mystical experiences whilst riding in ‘ off the beaten track ’ Australia . But the time my bike practically broke in half in the north-east of Australia really made me think I had guardians watching over me . I was in a tiny aboriginal settlement when the front part of the frame sheered , rendering the bike unrideable . I asked some of the locals if there was a mechanic or welder in the place . A man who was leaning against a doorpost of the village ’ s only shop drawled , “ Somebody comes once a month ”. Fearful that he had come the previous day , I tentatively asked when the welder was next due .
“ T ’ morra !” was the answer . Incredulous at my good fortune , I slept outside the yard beside the bike that night ; I was not going to miss him .
In the early hours , I thought I was going to be dogmeat when a pack of wild dogs came hurtling towards me . I rolled myself up in my groundsheet but they raced straight past , focussed on another creature , not me . In the morning , the kind man welded the frame back together , refusing payment because he believed it would be good for his karma to help a traveller .
Travelling the way I did made me more tuned in to a sixth sense and to be mindful of the gut feeling- that
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