Itanagar to Ziro
It’s only a hundred odd kilometres from Itanagar, but the road started deteriorating immediately - and in some places was covered by piles of mud!
Oh no! Mud and sand is not my favourite surface at all. Both of them offer poor traction and causes the bike to slip and slide like a boozy fellow trying to cross the dance floor and in fact mud is worse than sand because it sticks to your tyres and makes them smooth and slippery!
Oh no! Mud and sand is not my favourite surface at all. Both of them offer poor traction and causes the bike to slip and slide like a boozy fellow trying to cross the dance floor and in fact mud is worse than sand because it sticks to your tyres and makes them smooth and slippery!
But this was just Thunderbird thinking!
I stopped and looked nervously at the mud slide all over the road and huge traffic jam in front of it, as all the cars and trucks stopped and also looked nervously at it.
I stopped and looked nervously at the mud slide all over the road and huge traffic jam in front of it, as all the cars and trucks stopped and also looked nervously at it.
But then bawa came behind me and tootled his horn with vigour, and slapped me on the back.
‘Courage man! You are on the Himalayan now! Go for it!’
I gulped.
But there was no choice anyway - couldn’t wait around here…Ziro was ahead. I privately commended my soul to god and gunned the accelerator!
‘EXCELSIOR!’ I shouted and entered the mud field - and I was shocked!
The bike just went over it as easy as pie!
My Thunderbird would have got stuck and wept, but this one just laughed merrily and went glugglugglug over the mud. WOOHOO! I stood up on the footpegs and gunned my way across!
What a feeling! What a feeling!
‘Courage man! You are on the Himalayan now! Go for it!’
I gulped.
But there was no choice anyway - couldn’t wait around here…Ziro was ahead. I privately commended my soul to god and gunned the accelerator!
‘EXCELSIOR!’ I shouted and entered the mud field - and I was shocked!
The bike just went over it as easy as pie!
My Thunderbird would have got stuck and wept, but this one just laughed merrily and went glugglugglug over the mud. WOOHOO! I stood up on the footpegs and gunned my way across!
What a feeling! What a feeling!
Soon we reached Ziro - or at least we reached a rather gaunt and soviet-looking brutalist concrete arch saying ‘DEPTT OF TOURISM WELCOMES YOU’ , with a rather amateur drawing of what looked like a Japanese Samurai warrior holding a spear. It was obviously supposed to be a painting of a local Apatani tribal welcoming you - but it didn’t look like a local dude and he surely didn’t look welcoming. It looked like he was - a Japanese samurai dude about to shout ‘KINJIRU’ and stick you with that spear.
Maybe the artist was not very good at original drawing and there was no reference photo of local tribals so worked from a photo of a Japanese warrior? Well - the architect who made that ugly arch was not talented, so why should the artist be any different?
And for that matter - what were we being welcomed to? I went and peered at the sign closely and it said that Ziro was 51 km away! Talk about premature welcomation.
Ah, never mind. Some poor sod did his best.
Maybe the artist was not very good at original drawing and there was no reference photo of local tribals so worked from a photo of a Japanese warrior? Well - the architect who made that ugly arch was not talented, so why should the artist be any different?
And for that matter - what were we being welcomed to? I went and peered at the sign closely and it said that Ziro was 51 km away! Talk about premature welcomation.
Ah, never mind. Some poor sod did his best.
The scenery became nicer and nicer as we ascended the mountains - and while the roads were bad, they weren’t the worst I had seen. But then we travel the country looking for bad roads to ride on, so we are not the best judge. And now that I was on this adventure bike, I was actively courting bad roads and was rather disappointed when the roads improved.
Soon we passed Joram top and entered the lovely fertile bowl of the Ziro valley. What a relief. The thrill of bad roads is all very well, but it is even better when it stops. I wondered how all the other travellers in four wheelers and buses must be feeling - their liver and intestines and kidneys must all got mixed together!
Soon we passed Joram top and entered the lovely fertile bowl of the Ziro valley. What a relief. The thrill of bad roads is all very well, but it is even better when it stops. I wondered how all the other travellers in four wheelers and buses must be feeling - their liver and intestines and kidneys must all got mixed together!
We made our way to the tents - and found to my surprise that there were a number of operators running a number of tented campsites. We were staying with our friends -‘Kite Manja camps’, with whom we had stayed when we had been to the Hornbill music festival in Nagaland. (See ‘One man rides Northeast’)
They greeted us with joy (or at least pretended to remember us) and showed us to our tent.
They greeted us with joy (or at least pretended to remember us) and showed us to our tent.
‘Well that’s a cute little tent.’ Delzad said. ‘I hope this fat fellow will be able to squeeze into it. HAHAHA.’
‘Haha’ the Kite Manja guy said. ‘Very droll. Hilarious.’
‘So where’s my tent?’ Delzad asked.
‘Oh this is a two man tent! This is for both of you!’
‘WHAT?’
‘Haha’ the Kite Manja guy said. ‘Very droll. Hilarious.’
‘So where’s my tent?’ Delzad asked.
‘Oh this is a two man tent! This is for both of you!’
‘WHAT?’
The most detailed anthropological studies of the Apatani people was done by a very interesting and most kick-ass personality - a lady called Ursula Graham Bower - the ‘Naga Queen’.
This is a story so incredible that if you saw it in a movie, you would scoff at the writer for making up such an unbelievable character. Ha.
Ursula was born in England in 1914 to a British Naval officer, and came to India in 1937 to visit her friend, who's brother was a civil service officer in Imphal, Nagaland. It was supposed to be a ‘fishing trip’ for her, where her mother hoped that she would bag a nice British guy and marry - but instead, Ursula fell in love with the Naga hills and their tribes. She came back in 1939 with a camera and notebook and did an awesome amateur job of Anthropological research - taking more than a 1000 photos of tribespeople and tribal life - which are still a canon of the field today.
Then came the war! WWII.
She was in London when the war began, but somehow managed to wangle permission to return to the Naga hills and she stayed in local Naga villages and developed a close relationship with the local people.
So close, that when the Japanese attacked British India, she decided to stay on and fight back! All the men must have been killed off or sent to fight in the wars - but she decided to fight on herself! She created a guerrilla force of the local Naga tribes and waged her own private war with the brutal Japanese army.
Ursula was born in England in 1914 to a British Naval officer, and came to India in 1937 to visit her friend, who's brother was a civil service officer in Imphal, Nagaland. It was supposed to be a ‘fishing trip’ for her, where her mother hoped that she would bag a nice British guy and marry - but instead, Ursula fell in love with the Naga hills and their tribes. She came back in 1939 with a camera and notebook and did an awesome amateur job of Anthropological research - taking more than a 1000 photos of tribespeople and tribal life - which are still a canon of the field today.
Then came the war! WWII.
She was in London when the war began, but somehow managed to wangle permission to return to the Naga hills and she stayed in local Naga villages and developed a close relationship with the local people.
So close, that when the Japanese attacked British India, she decided to stay on and fight back! All the men must have been killed off or sent to fight in the wars - but she decided to fight on herself! She created a guerrilla force of the local Naga tribes and waged her own private war with the brutal Japanese army.
She was the subject of an American comic book entitled ‘Jungle Queen’, and was written about in Time magazine and so forth, and was appointed Member of the Order of the British Empire for her actions in Burma. Later she was awarded the Lawrence Memorial Medal, named after Lawrence of Arabia, for her anthropological work among the Nagas.
So I suppose she would be the only woman to be awarded for wartime bravery and for peacetime scholarship!
So I suppose she would be the only woman to be awarded for wartime bravery and for peacetime scholarship!
I found an awesome one-person one-act play on the life of Ursula Bower - acted by Joanna Purslow and Script and Direction by Chris Eldon Lee. Its very nice, do check it out.
Now coming back to the present day - and the wonderful Kite Manja camp at Ziro -
The first thing that happened was that it rained all day long.
Ah well, it was fun in its own way- we went to the little community square tent and hung out and drank rum and chatted up with the other guests as they chatted, jammed to some music, drew in notebooks and so on. All of them looked depressingly young and I felt rather like an old crow amidst a flock of twittering sparrows!
Bawa sat miserably in the tent, huddled up in a blanket and looking like a homeless guy in some American dystopia.
But finally the rain stopped and the sun came out and we went to the festival venue to check out the sights.
The ZMF was great fun - I have rarely enjoyed a music festival more. The various stages were spread out all over an open grassy expanse, and all the structures were made of bamboo! Guests sat on the grass and drank local rice wine and smoked as various enthusiastic artistes came and performed on the various stages.
There was literally no brick structure in sight - what a refreshing sight.
The ZMF was great fun - I have rarely enjoyed a music festival more. The various stages were spread out all over an open grassy expanse, and all the structures were made of bamboo! Guests sat on the grass and drank local rice wine and smoked as various enthusiastic artistes came and performed on the various stages.
There was literally no brick structure in sight - what a refreshing sight.
Some concessionaire had put up a hot-air balloon - a tethered one, so it just went up and down like an elevator - but it was lovely sight as the bright red balloon with the hissing flames of the torch went up and down and up and down.
I really enjoyed the three days of the Ziro Music Festival - good music, chill vibes, good food and drink, local folk dances, great stay at the Kite Mania tent camp - we had a really lovely time.
Phase 1 of the ride is done.
Now for phase 2 and some serious riding
Phase 1 of the ride is done.
Now for phase 2 and some serious riding
