Starting with a snap
Dehradun to Paonta Sahib, 22nd September
I started my India riding in Dehradun, the capital of Uttarakhand and about six hours north of Delhi by train. With a population of about a million people it's not a small place, but I figured it would be a gentler introduction than Delhi and its colossal sprawl. Indian roads aren't new to me - I've been visiting Delhi all my life to see relatives, and I've seen other cities with my family too - but until now I've never ridden a bicycle here.
That spell was broken with a fifteen minute ride from the train station to a family friend's house, which I found surprisingly manageable. The most difficult parts were the unsignalled junctions, with free-for-all traffic, but thanks to everyone getting in each other's way, speeds were very low. You've just got to be assertive and take any space available to move forward. I was clearly an unusual sight, too: lots of people were staring at me and all my panniers, as well as the fact that I'm wearing a bicycle helmet.
My plan was to head west into Punjab, but before that I'd briefly gone the opposite way by bus with a little side trip to Haridwar and Rishikesh. Partly this was to see my family records, kept by pandits in Haridwar, but also just to kill some time. The monsoon season had brought brutal flooding to rural Punjab, and just before I arrived there had been flooding around Dehradun too, with many roads closed. By delaying my departure a few days, I'd hoped to avoid the worst of the damage.
Indeed, by the time I cycled out of Dehradun on the 22nd, the monsoon was over and there was an open route west. It felt very strange to finally be setting off on this particular journey; India has been the intimidating future cycling place in my mind for months, and now I'm actually doing it. I'd heard countless warnings - about the roads, the theft, the mugging, the street food - and I'd had plenty of worries myself. I had no idea what my first day of riding would really look like, although I did have a destination in mind - the gurdwara in Paonta Sahib, just over 50 kilometres away, which had been recommended as a place to stay.
The journey was, in a word, exciting. I passed through a market street on my way out of the city and got stuck in chaotic, jammed traffic sometimes featuring cows. I got bumped by a motorcycle. I was diverted (because of a flood-damaged broken bridge) onto a highway that didn't exist in OpenStreetMap, and had to walk my bike up a rocky dirt road to reach it. I tried very carefully not to skid and fall in the sand. Perhaps the most concerning thing, however, was discovering that my chain was broken. Not entirely broken - it was still getting me along - but one half of my quick link had snapped, leaving the other half clinging on by itself. On top of this, my cassette felt clicky and jumpy, as though it were worn out, and I regretted not changing it before I left London - I'd already known it was a bit worn.
After ignoring the problem for a couple of hours surprisingly didn't fix it, I stopped in the shade of a motorway overpass to sort out my chain. As I carefully tried to remove the broken metal without cutting myself, some curious children came to watch, touch my bike, toot the horn, and ask me a thousand questions. What's wrong with your cycle? Where are you from? Can I have a ride? Why do you sound strange? How much did your cycle cost? Though they were cute, I was a bit overwhelmed, as well as embarrassed by my bad Hindi. I'd read about this kind of thing happening to people, but being in it myself felt entirely different. I replaced the quick link with my spare one and left in a slight hurry.
With my chain repaired, cycling felt much better, and my cassette also didn't feel so worn. I think the missing half-link had caused the chain to effectively stretch by a couple of millimetres, which had made it go out of alignment with the cassette. Now it felt fine again, I had one less thing to worry about. On the other hand, I had used my only spare quick link, so if it happened again, I'd be toasted. I definitely needed to get some more spares. I had no idea why it had happened now - on day one of India - after months of cycling around Europe without my chain breaking.
I reached Paonta Sahib in the evening and crossed the great river Yamuna, the border here between Uttarakhand and Himachal Pradesh. Disappointingly, the local cycle workshop told me they don't have quick links and I wouldn't find that kind of thing around here. I think Decathlon might be my best bet, when I reach a city that has one. For the moment, though, I made my way to the gurdwara (getting directions from more curious street kids) for a tasty langar dinner and a bed for the night.
