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from the stampede in shock but unscathed .
When the dust settled , our view opened over a vast expanse of saltcrusted brown sand reaching all the way to the horizon . This being the dry season , the marsh had completely dried , creating India ’ s version of the Bonneville salt flats , and the ground was solid enough to get up to speed . This was better than we ever imagined , and we blasted about with huge grins on our faces .
The afternoon was getting on and we still had to get to the other side . Unprepared for how fantastically deserted this place was , we hadn ’ t brought enough water and had run out . It was easy to get lost with the elusive road nowhere to be seen . The GPS placed us on our map , and we followed what seemed to be the main track , judging by how hard-packed it was , heading west .
The island in the middle was nothing but sand and thorny bushes . I rounded a corner to find a surprised soldier jump up from his lonely post . He invited me for tea , and I would have loved to accept , but Aidan had gone ahead , so I waved and rode on , so as to not lose him .
More tracks led west from the island across the even bigger expanse . At sunset a herd of cows indicated that we must be close to civilisation and water . Two women carried some from the village well , skillfully balancing it on their heads in large silver jugs stacked on top of each other . We were desperately thirsty , but we ’ d had our fair share of Delhi belly and held out for bottled water . This was a very rural area , rarely reached by tourists , and everyone was curious to see us . Children flocked around the bikes as we stopped at the shop and women looked up from the embroidery they were working on . At nightfall the men headed home from working the fields and we found a hidden spot deep in the thorn bushes to pitch our tent .
After yesterday ’ s hot and dusty ride , we fancied a little break from the road and the colonial town of Mandvi on the southern coast of Gujarat seemed just the ticket . The city ’ s shipbuilding industry is hundreds of years old , and the knowledge and skills needed to build the famous dhows is passed along generations . Arriving in the late afternoon , we saw these wooden ships in various stages of completion dotted all along Mandvi ’ s beaches . We spent the balmy evening exploring the streets . The
Portuguese colonial buildings were in various stages of romantic decay with colours fading and trees reclaiming some of the walls . The historic charm combined with the Indian flair for bustle and chaos created a lively and beautiful town that charmed us into staying another day .
A cold beer while catching up with our diaries would be nice , so Aidan went out to find some . Drinking alcohol has a stigma in many areas of India and liquor stores can be difficult to find . Often hidden in a back street , there may be no more than a hole in the wall with metal bars through which the drinks are handed . An easy way to find them is to ask a tuk-tuk to take you there .
Aidan flagged one down and got taken to a corner shop , the driver looking hopeful that this is what Aidan meant . Unsure of what caused the misunderstanding , Aidan asked for whiskey , a word generally understood to mean booze . The driver found someone who spoke English , asked him to join Aidan in the tuk-tuk and a few phone calls were made . Then they dropped Aidan back at the hotel and told him they would call him at 6pm , a conspiratorial look on their faces .
Back in our room we made use of the terrible internet connection and did some research . Gujarat is largely Muslim and a dry state . Whoops ! Alcohol is illegal here and we had accidentally initiated a bootlegging mission . But it was too late now , the tuk-tuk drivers were making a great effort to procure some whiskey for us and it would be rude not to show up .
In the evening , Aidan got a call : “ Go now , go now !” He went downstairs and jumped into the waiting tuk-tuk . The driver took him a long way out of town down some potholed track . Just as Aidan was beginning to doubt his travellers ’ sixth sense to trust his driver , they met up with another tuk-tuk . Cash
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