Roing to Kaho

​We set out from Roing with great enthusiasm- now we were coming to the zenith of the trip. We were going to visit the eastern-most point of India!  WOOHOO! 
​Roing is in the Dibang river valley and now the road went through some flats until we reached the town on Tezu, which is in the Lohit river valley. The Lohit and the Dibang meet further down route to form the Brahmaputra. 
​The road we were driving on was the brand new NH 13 - Arunachal Pradesh’s first highway. When rider-filmmaker Gaurav Jani did his Arunachal ride in 2002, there were no roads in Arunachal - to get from point to point in the state, you had to cross the Brahmaputra river and drive in Assam and then cross over again. The whole ‘shtick’ of the ride was that they planned to to ride only in Arunachal Pradesh without going into Assam - and they had a hellish/adventurous time riding their way through various primitive roads to achieve that goal. 

That challenge no longer exists - because there has been a tremendous focus on road and infrastructure building in the state. This NH13 is part of the larger ‘Trans-Arunachal highway’ which is supposed to connect all districts and farflung areas by good quality 2 lane roads. 
After  we reached Tezu, the road started to gain in altitude and you could really appreciate the braided river. The Lohit is a fast moving mountain river till Parsuramkund as it comes down the mountains - but when it hits the plains, it loses its momentum and spread out like the hips of a middle-aged person after 40!
 The body of the river meanders into many many strands, separated by sand bars and quicksand and islands! Each island must be having its own unique ecology and unique animals living there! Since it was winter - the dry season - the river did not have its usual amount of water, and thus the braids were very visible  - and it was a wonderful sight! 
​The Lohit merges with the Dibang and Siyong rivers to form the mighty Brahmaputra a little later down the line. 

And of course, in rainy season and flood times, it must be a totally different beast altogether! A frightening sight! 
​The gradient began rising after Tezu, and we had to negotiate quite a steep and bendy road after a point called Demwe, and then it became steeper and steeper and twistier and twistier. 

I love steep and twisty! I live to ride steep and twisty! WOOHOO! 
​But when steep and twisty combined with bad roads and rains, it becomes quite a pain. You can’t build up speed to bend the bike on turns, and you have to be constantly be aware - and beware - of trucks and other unruly traffic. 
​We were well out of civilisation now, and there was almost nobody on the roads. And the road was simply glorious! This was the NH 113 - a secondary route of the NH 13 which I mentioned earlier, and this runs from Hawa camp at the beginning of of the mountains till Kibithu - the last road head of extreme northeast of India.
​We were now riding along with the beautiful Lohit river - whose name came from the Assamese word ‘Lohit’ meaning blood, also known as the Zayul Chu by the Tibetans and Tellu by the Mishmis.  Being a mountain river, it is tempestuous and turbulent, and known as the river of blood (or the river of Iron… depends on whether you prefer the  exciting or mundane explanation)  because the waters have a reddish colour - probably attributable to the lateritic soil, rich in iron ore. 

In the mountains, it is like a tight-bodied mountain lass, running swiftly and jumping and skipping down the slopes - until it reaches the plains near Tezu and then changes into  a looser, softer, wide-hipped MILF with open braids of hair. 
​Anyway, we were riding along the beautiful Lohit valley, lost in the beautiful views and idyllic landscape. 

There is nothing quite like a bike ride in the Himalayas. The bike cutting through the mountain air the wind fluttering your riding gear and whooshing against your helmet visor, the bike vibrating with controlled power as innumerable explosions erupt inside its engine, the lush green mountains all around you, the herbal scent of a million fragrant leaves and flowers, the thrill in your being as you hurtle towards your goal…it’s a feeling very difficult to describe to others. 
​‘Why do you do this?’ people ask. ‘Why do you spend so much time and money on going on trips to these distant, barbaric and godforsaken places? Why do you tolerate aching bones and bruised bums and cramping forearms and freezing extremities? What will you achieve by reaching the eastern-most point of India? 
Why not save money - buy gold, mutual funds etc which will help you in future life?

Why?’ 

There is no answer I can give. 

Even George Mallory couldn’t answer the journalist when he was asked why he wanted to climb Mount Everest. 

‘Because it’s there!’ he had snapped. 
​We rode past the vast Namti plains, and kept ascending till we found a roadsign that had us jumping with joy! 

It was a large yellow sign, which simply said ‘WELCOME TO THE EASTERN MOST ROAD OF INDIA’ 

WOOHOO! 
​We were there…we were almost there…within hands-breadth of our destination! 

These roads were all of military construction now, made by the Border Roads Organisation, and the signs became progressively more martial as we went along. 
​‘You wanted to ride to the Easternmost point of India?’ he asked. 
‘Oh yes.’ 
‘But you know - this isn’t the easternmost point.’ 
‘IT ISN’T? 
‘No…not really.’ 
‘BUT ISN’T THIS KIBITHU?’ 
‘Oh yes…but the road actually ends a few kilometres down  - at Kaho village. That is the easternmost point of India. In fact you can see the Chinese border village from there. You should go there.’
‘Oh great! Thanks! We will go there.’ 
​We toasted each other with cups of tea, and embraced and thumped each other on the back. 

We had done it. 

We had ridden to the EASTERNMOST point of India! 

It was Dussehra day - the day of victory! And this was our victory. 

WOOHOO