We had been warned. Our Irish friend, Maive, explained to us the night before how she would never recommend an overnight sleeper bus for travel around India. She told us of the drivers being notorious for ingesting pharmaceutical speed and living off a diet of whiskey. Taking one look at our bus driver's eyes, you could see he wasn't a healthy human-being and probably fitted into the stereotype Maive described.
We stuck it out a) thinking that our last bus ride wasn't so bad and b) through lack of another option but stick to plan. As we took off in a cloud of smoke, a grumbling diff and very hoarse exhaust - we thought the idea of a sleeper really was really quite good.
The sleeper bus had two levels built in on the inside. The upper level were a series of double bunks where from my count 10 double bunks could sleep 20 people. Underneath, another 6 bunks and also around 10 very reclined for adequate headroom, sleeper chairs.
I'm usually about 174cm tall and I had about 1cm between my head and the end of the cubicle if my feet were flat on the other end of the cubicle. With enough breadth for my shoulders and a little more this was to be my space for the next few hours.
Like nearly all the buses in India, they have done some tough tough miles. The running gear now grumbled, the exhaust was throaty, probably as there was no muffler, and the suspension was as good as shot. Had the roads been to half the standard as western infrastructure it could be forgiven however here the roads are "work
in progress" with no consistent surface, width or gradient. This coupled with chaotic traffic makes for a bouncey, lurching and heaving bus experience. Not fun, not even for the novelty of lying down when all this happens!
For some extra cash the drivers, as they came into new townships and villages would pick up passer's by. This is fine if it's an old guy or women with her child. However at one stop, a bunch of stoned/drunk lads jumped on bantering and laughing. One seriously hammered chap, was a bit of a monkey climbing around the empty beds which the conductor didn't take too lightly to. A few words were exchanged in the local tongue followed by some words between the friends and the conductor. I thought this was good form by the conductor who prior to
this showed zero responsibility. Not long after the monkey started up his antics falling along the isle at which point the conductor had another word - which sparked a "push and shove" until we heard a loud whistle, the bus screetch to a halt, the door open and the monkey got thrown out. His friends pleaded but the conductor had given the boot and that was that. As he slammed the door whistled again and the bus jolted on, a huge crash was heard as large rock was thrown just missing the open door and hitting the neighbouring glass pane. Luckily nothing was broken and we were back on our way. A few others were picked up along the way and although drunk, they snored and stank quietly underneath us on the recliners.
There were other random stops for chai and just where I thought I got some sleep our red-eyed companion/driver was back. This time it was 3am and with a shout "Karwar, Karwar, Karwar" we were pressured off the bus wondering what was going on. Like always getting a straight answer is impossible but we somehow pieced together that this was our change onto Gokarna. So as the mosquitoes swarmed in for fresh blood (a spanish lady had already kicked off with us) we began to assess our options. We had been told we would change in Karwar but
nothing was organised by the bus company nor instructions given. We asked a few locals who were milling around what our options were. With this helpful information we set off down the road to the bus stop. The only signs of life were dogs marauding and the odd person sleeping on the median strip. We set our bags down on the concrete waiting seats and pondered our situation. The ever tough Sarah made her first comment about her tummy feeling bad (although I'm sure it was awful bouncing around on the bus). Soon, we struck up a conversation with a
few people. One man was picking up a parcel of meat that had been sent from the north. It arrived at about 5am. He gave me his business card in case I needed and CNC machining of timber done. Another young kid
was heading to Goa for just a day. He had an inquisitive face about him and proceeded to ask a million questions about Australia and our travels and study and everything. A lovely chap who is probably sitting at the front of his classroom right now asking another million annoying questions of his teacher.
Our bus came around 6:30. I had only asked 10 people to get this straight answer. Our ancient ricketty local bus took us to Ankola and then after another change through to Gokarna. Here we drove along the coast and were welcomed to a morning view over the coast with bonus fish smell wafting through the breeze for our sensory delight. The earth was rich red adding to the morning experience. The road was as bad as we've had and for Sarah this was an unbearable end to a rough trip.
The last walk from the bus stop to our accommodation landed us in bed at our destination - Nimmu House. The fan was on and a few hours sleep were taken to recuperate. The bus ride nightmare over.
We stuck it out a) thinking that our last bus ride wasn't so bad and b) through lack of another option but stick to plan. As we took off in a cloud of smoke, a grumbling diff and very hoarse exhaust - we thought the idea of a sleeper really was really quite good.
The sleeper bus had two levels built in on the inside. The upper level were a series of double bunks where from my count 10 double bunks could sleep 20 people. Underneath, another 6 bunks and also around 10 very reclined for adequate headroom, sleeper chairs.
I'm usually about 174cm tall and I had about 1cm between my head and the end of the cubicle if my feet were flat on the other end of the cubicle. With enough breadth for my shoulders and a little more this was to be my space for the next few hours.
Like nearly all the buses in India, they have done some tough tough miles. The running gear now grumbled, the exhaust was throaty, probably as there was no muffler, and the suspension was as good as shot. Had the roads been to half the standard as western infrastructure it could be forgiven however here the roads are "work
in progress" with no consistent surface, width or gradient. This coupled with chaotic traffic makes for a bouncey, lurching and heaving bus experience. Not fun, not even for the novelty of lying down when all this happens!
For some extra cash the drivers, as they came into new townships and villages would pick up passer's by. This is fine if it's an old guy or women with her child. However at one stop, a bunch of stoned/drunk lads jumped on bantering and laughing. One seriously hammered chap, was a bit of a monkey climbing around the empty beds which the conductor didn't take too lightly to. A few words were exchanged in the local tongue followed by some words between the friends and the conductor. I thought this was good form by the conductor who prior to
this showed zero responsibility. Not long after the monkey started up his antics falling along the isle at which point the conductor had another word - which sparked a "push and shove" until we heard a loud whistle, the bus screetch to a halt, the door open and the monkey got thrown out. His friends pleaded but the conductor had given the boot and that was that. As he slammed the door whistled again and the bus jolted on, a huge crash was heard as large rock was thrown just missing the open door and hitting the neighbouring glass pane. Luckily nothing was broken and we were back on our way. A few others were picked up along the way and although drunk, they snored and stank quietly underneath us on the recliners.
There were other random stops for chai and just where I thought I got some sleep our red-eyed companion/driver was back. This time it was 3am and with a shout "Karwar, Karwar, Karwar" we were pressured off the bus wondering what was going on. Like always getting a straight answer is impossible but we somehow pieced together that this was our change onto Gokarna. So as the mosquitoes swarmed in for fresh blood (a spanish lady had already kicked off with us) we began to assess our options. We had been told we would change in Karwar but
nothing was organised by the bus company nor instructions given. We asked a few locals who were milling around what our options were. With this helpful information we set off down the road to the bus stop. The only signs of life were dogs marauding and the odd person sleeping on the median strip. We set our bags down on the concrete waiting seats and pondered our situation. The ever tough Sarah made her first comment about her tummy feeling bad (although I'm sure it was awful bouncing around on the bus). Soon, we struck up a conversation with a
few people. One man was picking up a parcel of meat that had been sent from the north. It arrived at about 5am. He gave me his business card in case I needed and CNC machining of timber done. Another young kid
was heading to Goa for just a day. He had an inquisitive face about him and proceeded to ask a million questions about Australia and our travels and study and everything. A lovely chap who is probably sitting at the front of his classroom right now asking another million annoying questions of his teacher.
Our bus came around 6:30. I had only asked 10 people to get this straight answer. Our ancient ricketty local bus took us to Ankola and then after another change through to Gokarna. Here we drove along the coast and were welcomed to a morning view over the coast with bonus fish smell wafting through the breeze for our sensory delight. The earth was rich red adding to the morning experience. The road was as bad as we've had and for Sarah this was an unbearable end to a rough trip.
The last walk from the bus stop to our accommodation landed us in bed at our destination - Nimmu House. The fan was on and a few hours sleep were taken to recuperate. The bus ride nightmare over.
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