After driving over 3,000 kilometers on the most chaotic streets in the world, I’ve learned a thing or two about staying alive on India’s roads.

If you ever plan to drive yourself around India in a tiny, uncooperative rickshaw (and I hope you do!) you’ll be one step ahead of the game with my rickshaw run rules of the road.

Rule 1: Mind the pecking order

There is an unspoken pecking order on the roads of India and it is absolutely crucial that you understand where you fit within this. In order to keep yourself alive on India’s roads there is one rule that matters most of all: It is your responsibility to get out of the way of anything that comes above you in the pecking order.

Official Pecking Order:

Cows

Buses

Trucks

Cars

Rickshaws (that’s us!)

Motorcycles

Men driving carts pulled by oxen

Shepherds ushering sheep/goats/cattle across the road

Bicycles

Pedestrians

Dogs/Chickens/Peacocks/Pigs/any livestock not currently being herded by aforementioned shepherds

The good news is that you are free to run anything that falls below you on the all-important list right off the road should you so desire.

Pecking order pop quiz. Who rules the road in this photo? That’s right, the cow.

Rule 2: Always keep moving

Buses will barrel at you head-on. Cows will step into the road in front of you. Large, honking, insane traffic circles will suddenly appear from nowhere and you will be forced to drive straight into them. You will want to slam on your breaks. You will want to come to a stop before pulling into an intersection. Doing so would be a mistake.

Indian traffic moves. It fills the holes like water. Your fellow road warriors expect you to keep moving. Should you stop you will become the kink in the chain that stops the whole mess from functioning. Cry like a baby out of fear if you must but don’t stop moving.

Rule 3: The road is your bathroom

Do you know what truck stops, gas stations and fast food restaurants have in common? What’s that you say? Shit food? Okay, yes. At least one guy with a mullet? Okay, that too. But the answer I am looking for here is “FREE BATHROOMS.”

You don’t have to pay to use the bathrooms in India because there are no bathrooms at all. The road is your bathroom and you share it with the millions of others who are driving alongside you. You will see people pissing and shitting on the side of the road so often that after a while you won’t bat an eye at it. Don’t be shy. Join in.

Rule 4: There are no rules

You know all those rules you learned in drivers ed about merging and speed limits and lane changing? Forget all those. The only rule on India’s roads is that there are no rules. You can speed along as fast or as slow as you’d like. You can drive the wrong way down the highway. Lane lines, where they exist at all, are only a vague suggestion.  Hannah, Sarah and I drove nine days before we saw a stoplight that people actually stopped at. We never saw a stop sign. Over 3,000 kilometers and no stop sign! Don’t try to make sense of it, just drive.

Rule 5: Well, there is one rule

Okay, there is one golden rule on the roads of India and for the life of me I cannot explain why this one tiny detail has the power to drive every Indian completely off their rocker. So heed my advice friends and heed it well. Whatever you do, you absolutely must not drive with your turn signal on.

Should you do so, you will be honked at, signaled to, waved down and warned by every concerned passerby. It is absolutely acceptable to never use your turn signal at all but should you decide to use it you absolutely must remember to turn it off afterwards. Driving with your turn signal on is India’s ultimate sin.

I hope that these rules will serve you well and keep you safe out on the roads. Have fun future rickshaw run drivers, it’ll be a hell of a ride.

As always, we’d like to thank our wonderful sponsors for helping to make this wild adventure possible. Sykes Cottages, Atlas Tours and Cruises, Wimdu, KEEN, and HostelBookers, thank you!

Well somehow, since we last updated you all on day 6′s (mis)adventures, we made it to Cochin on this, day 14 of the Rickshaw Run. We tried to make a push for the finish yesterday, only to get stuck in a horrendous traffic jam in northern Kerala caused by a political march, that we then broke down in.

We were soon crawling through the traffic yet again, however, thanks to a guy selling sodas on the side of the road that also happened to be an expert on auto-rickshaw engines. He jimmied and jiggled connections, sucked on pipes and had Sunny raring to go in no time, whilst we drank cold Pepsis and stared at him dumbly.

And that about sums up the entire journey – we broke down and someone fixed it, usually some kind person who wanted nothing more than a photograph with us (that they may never see) and a smile. Sometimes they wanted $3 or so for parts. How rude…

Our time to shine did arrive, however, on day 9, about an hour from Hannah’s house in southern Goa. We were dreaming of massages, western food and beaches, when all of a sudden, we got a puncture. It seemed like a cruel joke after the previous 8 grueling days; we were on track to be eating dinner at Hannah’s favourite Italian restaurant on Patnem beach, but of course Sunny had other plans for us (yet again!).

For some reason we all thought, ‘We’re on our own this time’, even though previously we had always been helped. We leaped into action, all too aware of the diminishing daylight; the girls hoisted Sunny up while I secured a large rock under her as a makeshift jack, and we changed the tyre in what seemed like record speed.

It’s amazing how motivating the prospect of sunset drinks on the beach can be.

Last night we made it to a hotel about 50 km from the finish, deciding to call it quits on Kerala’s crazy roads around 8 pm. We may have left the highways of Gujarat behind us, but the drivers down here are seriously nuts! And the buses?! Don’t even get us started…

We arrived at the finish line around noon after checking into a nice hotel and having breakfast, almost unable to believe we had finally made it.

We will of course be writing more about our journey in the coming weeks, the girls will both be settled in Goa for a few months, and I fly out to the UK to join Tyrhone on Thursday.

But, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you ALL for being part of this journey with us. Your words of support and encouragement have kept us going during good times and bad, and we are so grateful for your belief in us. Thanks to you guys, we have raised over $4,550 for Frank Water, which is such an amazing effort – thank you SO much. Donations are still open if you would like to make a last minute contribution to clean drinking water programs in India, this amazing country that has challenged, inspired, infuriated and humbled us, but most of all taken care of us every minute of this 3,000 ish kilometer journey.

We made it guys. And tonight, we celebrate!

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

*We’d also like to thank our amazing sponsors, Hostelbookers, Atlas Cruises and Tours, KEEN footwear, Wimdu and  Sykes Cottages, who have helped make this adventure possible. 

Day 5 saw us heading south from Udaipur into the state of Gujarat. We had been warned of certain militarized zones to avoid, marking them with a large ‘X’ on the map, attempting to chart a route of safe passage that also didn’t involve driving through the capital city of Ahmedabad.

Google maps, however, had other ideas, and we realised that if we wanted to actually make it to South India at some point in the next nine days, we couldn’t dilly dally on roads heading east or west. We had to go South, baby, towards the sunshine!

“We’ll just skirt around Ahmedabad,” we assured ourselves. A city of a mere five million or so, surely, if we just stuck to the outskirts we’d be right… wouldn’t we?

Things started getting a little crazy as we got closer to the metropolis, and Kim’s time behind the ‘handles’ was up (we rotate drivers every hour and give Sunny, and us, a break for ten minutes or so). It was then my turn at the helm, and before long, the ‘outskirts’ of Ahmedabad looked rather like the ‘inskirts’, and though that is definitely not a real word, I’m sure you’ll understand after this:

Watch this video on YouTube.

(About 29 seconds in, I stall…)

Then just when we thought the worst was over, Sunny pulled the plug and stopped in the middle of a tangled mess of traffic. Though it was a rather stressful moment, it was also quite funny to draw such a crowd in the middle of the road:

Watch this video on YouTube.

These guys gave us a push start afterwards which had us giggling all the way to the entrance of the expressway where we were stopped and told to turn around, as auto-rickshaws were forbidden.

So although driving through Ahemedabad wasn’t the brightest idea we’d had, it did lead to a funny experience, and at the very least I can put “Driving an auto-rickshaw through peak-hour Indian city traffic” on my list of list of new skills.

We made it to a small town called Nadiad for the evening, pulled over the rickshaw as the sun was setting, and asked the nearest person where the closest hotel was. Of course, he spoke perfect English, jumped on the back of his friend’s motorbike and said “follow me”, leading us through the maze of streets buzzing with early evening traffic.

We pulled up at a basic hotel with cheap rooms and a place to park Sunny for the night. We had our photos taken with the kind strangers (which we were totally used to by then, we are going to be all over Indian Facebook after this journey!), and bid them goodbye.

Day 6 was, well, a day that could only be described as hard core. We hit the road at 6 am, and spent over 12 hrs on the grueling highways of Gujarat, clogged with trucks and dust.

As Kim said, there was “just no reward!” for most of the day, except for the fact that Sunny ran well and got us to the town of Daman at nightfall, situated on Gujarat’s southern coast. We were hoping for ‘beach resort’ but we found ‘seedy little town’ instead. We checked into the first decent hotel we could find which happened to be quite plush (by Indian standards), so we happily paid over the odds for hot showers and comfy beds with almost-clean sheets.

We dined at the fancy on-site restaurant, where over-zealous waiters annoyed us with their impeccable service; insisting on silver serving our Aloo Jeera, when all we really wanted to do was shove it down our gobs, chug cold drinks, and belch like the hard-core truckers we then believed ourselves to be.

Gujarat – You gave us quite a hard time; and though we didn’t buy any souvenirs, we’ll always remember you as the place we acquired our trucker street cred.

With a lifetime of adventure packed into four short days, it is almost impossible to remember all the amazing and challenging encounters we have experienced, especially as we are absolutely exhausted! One thing is for sure, this is shaping up to be the adventure of a lifetime, and despite our vehicular challenges, we have managed to overcome countless metaphoric (and literal) speed bumps, finding ourselves safe and well in the gorgeous town of Udaipur, Rajasthan.

So, how have the last  four days been?

We have run out of gas, well, enough times to know better, but thankfully only from the tank – we have a huge supply of extra gas (and the oil that must be mixed with it) that Matt of The Adventurists told us was “far too much.” Perhaps we over-did it with two, 20L jerry cans of extra petrol, but since one sprung a leak and we had to downgrade to one, we’re glad we were super cautious!

On day one we drove from Jaisalmer to Barmer, though I use the term ‘drove’ very loosely. We were towed into town for the last 20km or so, after ‘Sunny’ (that is our rickshaw’s name) decided she didn’t want to go any further. Without the help of the amazing team, Holy Cowabunga, we may still be sitting on the side of the highway outside of Barmer. They towed us, in the dark, without so much as a grumble, even though they could have been kicking back with a beer hours earlier if they had carried on without us.

We cannot thank those guys enough!

The following morning, our hotel rang the ‘coolest guy in Barmer’ (above, in the red shirt), who got Sunny started and led us to the mechanic, who happened to be the ‘oldest guy in Barmer’ (above, wearing Hannah’s trucker cap).

But as much as we enjoyed the surprises of Barmer, it was time to push on.

Passing through the desert villages of Rajasthan, women dressed in technicolor saris carried water pots and other supplies on their heads, gliding gracefully over the dunes towards clusters of adobe huts.  Top-heavy men with enormous turbans and spindly legs led camels along desert paths.

We stopped at a fresh water well and met some beautiful people that were happy for us to take photos of them and their gorgeous camel.

We carried on to a small town with the intention of finding a room for the night, only we were immediately mobbed by hoards of young men, whose sense of personal space (or lack thereof) combined with raging hormones caused us to make a fast getaway from a place that shall forever be remembered as “Crazy Town.”

These were cute kids that mobbed us at a chai stop (they were much cuter than the men!)

We made it to a tiny village well after night-fall, undecided whether to push on or not, since that place too, was alarmingly devoid of women. We stopped for chai and a bite to eat at the first restaurant we could find, which happened to be run by the kindest group of men who quietly and intuitively fed us and made up our beds for the night.

Yes, that is actually Hannah under there!

The arrangement may have been a little unorthodox, but we felt so completely safe there, even though we slept outside on camp-beds in a place we didn’t know the name of. One of the men slept on a bed at the foot of ours, keeping watch over us and our belongings for the night. Words cannot describe how grateful we are to those kind fellows, who wouldn’t even accept a tip the following morning.

The sight of us! (All rugged up the following morning – it was freezing!!)

On day three we hit the road early, headed towards Udaipur, knowing we wouldn’t make it all the way in one day. Sunny drove like absolute dream, taking us past some amazing sights (like this gigantic Shiva statue), through pretty villages and fertile mountains. She even took us to beautiful palace for lunch, where we sipped cool drinks and tucked into club sandwiches, our night of sleeping out in the cold all but a distant memory…

Watch this video on YouTube.

We didn’t make it to Udaipur that night, though Kim did a stellar job of driving uphill in the dark (we know, we know, we won’t be making a habit of it!) to a small road-side guesthouse. It may not have been a palace, but the welcome was just as warm, especially since we were three-to-a-bed! Yep, we’re getting pretty cozy…

Our short drive today took us into the chaos of Udaipur city, where Kim negotiated the manic streets like a pro. We now sit at a lakeside restaurant across from our lovely guest house, about to have dinner .

The Taj Palace Hotel (i.e NOT our guest house)

I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of the unbelievable experiences we have had, and the people who have been placed in our path to help us along on our journey.

Like the men who stopped their enormous truck to help us road-side (and ended up sucking fuel through the lines to get us going again), or the man who chased us down on his motorcycle to return my backpack that I left at his tiny shop, refusing any reward. Or, the topper of them all, the man who turned my mobile phone in to the police when it slipped off my lap just hours ago during a minor scrape with a parked motorcycle.

I thought it was gone forever (along with our only GPS!), until Hannah and Kim returned to ‘the scene’, and were led directly to it at the local police station. Again, the man who handed in the $400 device wanted nothing but a ‘thankyou’ in return.

India has been kind to us. The beauty we have witnessed whizzing past our eyes has definitely made its way into our hearts, surprising us at every turn with a randomness that seems unreal. Only, this is India – dirty, crazy, chaotic, heart-breakingly beautiful India, and we are driving through her in a bright orange, flower-clad auto-rickshaw.

So I guess, it all makes perfect sense.

Thank you to everyone who has helped us raise over US$4,300 for frank Water!! We are so grateful for your generosity and support.

Posting on the road is proving to be quite a challenge, but we are trying to keep you all updated via twitter and Facebook, so please ‘follow’ and ‘like’ us to receive updates!

Five days ago team Namaste Outta My Way united in India, meeting for the first time at the Jaisalmer train station.

In the time that has passed between now and then we’ve been test-driving our rickshaw and preparing her for the long journey ahead (preparations, one should note, have included installing a sound system and decorating her with fabric flowers). We’ve run out of gas. We’ve broken down. We’ve been honked at endlessly and chased by Indian children. But we haven’t crashed the damn thing yet and for that we are eternally grateful.

Our rickshaw has caused us troubles, but despite them all we have fallen in love with our whacked-out, glorified golf cart. We’re excited to introduce her to the world.

So, without further ado…

World, meet rickshaw. Rickshaw, meet world. (We haven’t named her yet but hopefully a name will come to us soon).

It’s Monday here in India and that means we start our adventure tomorrow on o1/01/13.

If you’d like to follow along on our journey in real-time make sure to like our Facebook page or follow us on Twitter.

And don’t forget that we’re doing this for a good cause! We’re raising money for FRANK Water, a non-profit that sets up sustainable, community-owned clean water projects in some of the poorest communities in India. We’ve raised £2,605 GBP for the charity. Can you help us reach £3,000? Click here to donate.

The Rickshaw Run has been but a distant dream for so long, too far into the future to be real. I’ve been terrified, excited and numb about it, depending on what day I’ve been asked. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the process of starting this blog with Hannah and Kim, getting to know them via email, and raising a shed load of money for Frank Water. I’ve been touched by the generosity of our community of readers and have been blown away by the messages of support and encouragement we have received.

But the thing is, now we actually have to do this.

And right now, I’m not sure how to feel about that.  As most of you know, I arrived in Goa a few days ago. My trip to India was planned around the Rickshaw Run, and I am lucky enough to be able to stay at Hannah’s lovely house in Goa. It’s wonderful here, very relaxed and chilled out, basically the EXACT OPPOSITE of what we will be experiencing in just over 11 days time.

Even the cows are relaxed.

So whilst part of me drifts around the beaches of Patnem and Palolem, sipping lime soda and searching for the best masala chai, another part, the part of me where terror resides, screams,”Do you realize what you are about to do?! ARE YOU COMPLETELY FUCKING NUTS?!”

Hannah, on the other other hand, is completely calm and full of faith. I don’t think she has a single worry about the journey ahead, which makes one of us at least. Kim is flying across the world to do this with us, from Rio, to Frankfurt, to Delhi – a trans-continental milk-run of epic proportion. It will be her and Brian’s first time to India ever, and I can only imagine the roller-coaster of emotion she must be going through.

Every time I walk past an auto-rickshaw, a little shiver runs through me, an equal mix of excitement and fear. I stare at them parked along the dusty streets here, poke my head through the windows and try to imagine myself in the drivers seat with my team mates in the back.  The image I have is of a more confident me – Queen of the Indian highways with cat-like reflexes and a hardened self-assurance that comes from experience and time.

Only, I have had very little experience behind the wheel of a motorized tricycle (read: none), let alone any vehicle other than the 2001 Hyundai Accent I sold before going traveling. And as Christmas approaches, time is becoming a dwindling commodity; Hannah and I fly to Jaipur to meet Kim and Brian on the 26th of December.

We took an ‘auto’ to the nearby town of Chaudi the other day for supplies, and though it was only a small, one-road commercial hub, the streets were a chaotic mix of cars, bikes, trucks, people and cars.

“Shit,” I thought to myself, “We are going to be rattling through hundreds of towns like this, most of which will be on a much larger scale of crazy!”

Shhiiiiiiiit.

I’ve received so many lovely messages of support lately via my own blog, yet I feel I must make clear one thing: I’m not the sort of person to do something like this. Let it be known that I am fearful and neurotic to the core (in case you hadn’t noticed), and that I have to actively overcome negative thoughts and emotions almost every day. I do not see myself as adventurous, and cannot imagine ever being fearless.

The real journey I am on is one of self-acceptance, and accepting my fear is part of this. Not giving into it, mind you, but accepting it.

The key for me is to attempt to stay present in the moment (which seems to be something Hannah does exceptionally well), and assure myself that all is well, as it has always been. Whilst I am afraid of doing something which is completely out of my comfort zone, I am also very excited to begin. I know that once ‘driving an auto-rickshaw’ is something I can put on my list of experiences, it will deflate the power of the big fear bubble that is currently hanging over me and casting a shadow over my excitement.

I know this due to all of the wonderful gifts I have received in the last ten months of travel. Gifts I never would have known about if I’d given into fear and just stayed home, settling for a life that didn’t make me happy.

Hannah and Kim have been a big part of my journey. Hannah’s unwavering optimism keeps me buoyant, and Kim’s dedication to her dreams inspires me endlessly. Soon, we will putting all of that to the test, and embarking on a literal journey together, rather than just a figurative one.

And despite being afraid of the unknown, I know in my heart that very soon I’ll be in the moment, rattling along a desert highway in a three wheeled tin can; my fear an ever-decreasing speck in the rear-view mirror that eventually disappears from sight.

Bring it on.

Guess what? We have reached our fundraising target!!! That’s right, you guys have raised over 2,000 GBP, or US$3,400 for clean water charity, Frank Water! Hopefully we can still raise more money, which will go towards community-based water filtration systems in rural villages. Visit our charity page!

Any other support you can give us is very much appreciated, whether a tweet, Facebook mention or a donation!

Subscibe to this site to receive updates on our adventure, like our Facebook page and follow our Twitter feed for more live updates.

With just under 8 weeks to go before the Rickshaw Run 2013 kicks off, I thought it might be an idea to check out a viable route between Rajasthan and Kerala. Since The Adventurists pride themselves on not specifying a set route or providing any on-road support WHATSOEVER, it’s up to us (a graphic designer, an ex-flight attendant and a marathon runner) to figure out how to get from the top of India to the bottom in just 14 bum-jarring days.

Google says it’s only 2,400km! We thought it was 3,500! This thing’s gonna be a breeze…

THE STARTING POINT: JAISALMER, RAJASTHAN, JANUARY 1ST 2013

Well, this one shouldn’t be so hard. After spending Christmas in Goa together, Hannah and I will make our way by train to Jaisalmer to meet Kim and Brian, who will be flying into Delhi and training it from there. I’m really looking forward to visiting this fort town in the desert of Rajasthan, and having team ‘NAMASTE OUTTA MY WAY’ together for the first time. Ever.

‘Pimping’ will begin on December 29th, and we will be making our three-wheeled mean machine look as pretty as possible so that people will take pity on her and want to fix her for us when she inevitably breaks down. Hannah has submitted a beautiful design which will be painted on our rickshaw by a very talented team of Indian artists prior to us receiving her.

Then we practice our driving skills by doing donuts in the desert for a few days, before celebrating New Year’s Eve (and my 32nd birthday!) with a cricket match (The Rickshaw Runners vs The Locals; gee, I wonder which way that’s gonna go), and an opening party. I’ll be dragging the girls off to bed just after midnight, however, as the following morning we will be setting off for… um… hang on let me check my map…

BARMER!

According to Google maps, we will be heading to the village of Barmer on the first leg of our journey, 159km from Jaisalmer. I figure we’ll be there for lunch (I’m optimistic!). Now, the Rajasthan tourist board doesn’t have much to say about Barmer, which must have something to do with those show-pony towns like Jaipur and Jodhpur overshadowing everyone else with their monochromatic colour schemes.

From what I can gather, Barmer is a small desert town with a river and a few Jain temples, a population of 83,517, which by Indian standards would be considered a one-camel town. Perfect! We’ll be there for lunch on the 1st of January, Barmer, so if you could whip up something tasty, we’d be eternally grateful.

Image courtesy of Tours In Ajmer

TO GUJARAT AND BEYOND!

Okay, from here I’m not going to bother putting a time on things; if we make it to Barmer on the first day, I’ll consider the expedition a success.  Afterwards we will be pointing our trusty steed in the direction of Patan, the ancient capital of Gujarat, which looks absolutely amazing. Forget the Taj, they’ve got the Patan Mahal baby, an ancient palace that overlooks the city and has since been converted into luxury lodgings (that I’d give my left arm to stay at).

Image courtesy of the Patan Mahal website

But the pièce de résistance of this city is the amazing Rani Ki Vav, an intricately carved step-well built in 1063 by Queen Udayamati in memory of her late husband. The amazing structure begins at ground level and descends down into the earth towards a water source, consisting of several pavilions and galleries that depict over 800 spiritually significant sculptures. Wow!

Image courtesy of  Gujarattourism.com

We’ll then make our way through bustling Ahmedabad 126km from Patan, trying to stick to the city limits and not get in too many traffic jams.

We’ll also pass by the city of Anand, which I have recently discovered is famous for its international surrogacy program. According to this interesting article by The Times of India, women here live in communal homes during their pregnancies, where they are cared for whilst carrying children for people from all over the world. Yes, India is already blowing my mind with it’s diversity and complexity and I haven’t even arrived yet.

All going well (which I’m sure it all will, the power of positive thinking, people!), we will be crossing over the Namada River and into the bustling city of Vadodara. Haven’t heard of it? Well, neither had I, but the third largest city in Gujarat is home to over 1 million people, including the Baroda Royal Family, who live in the beautiful Laxmi Vilas Palace, four times the size of Buckingham Palace.

Image courtesy of Wikipedia commons

They don’t do things by halves in India!

Next, we will be passing through the city of Surat and and by the small village of Dandi about 40km to the south, which marked the end of Gandhi’s famous 23 day ‘Salt March’ from Ahmedabad in 1930; a peaceful protest against the British enforced salt tax. Here, we might detour to the shrine erected in remembrance of Gandhi’s determination and resolve to liberate the Indian population through non-violent protest. It might be a good chance to pay our respects and gain inspiration for our onward journey…

Image of Gandhi during the ‘Salt March’ courtesy of Wikipedia commons

We might squeeze in a night at Daman, a relaxed coastal town which was once a Portuguese colony, before making our way through the outskirts of crazy, cosmopolitan and cool Mumbai. I have mixed feelings about going into Mumbai on the Rickshaw Run. Mainly because I absolutely fell in love with that city after my visit there early last year, the final stop on our month-long India trip, but I wouldn’t want to drive through it for anything!

Adding to that, there are some restrictions on auto-rickshaws in central Mumbai, which are quite frankly confusing, but not as confusing as their chaotic, crowded streets. I know Kim hasn’t been to Mumbai yet, so if she wants to go we will find a way, but perhaps that might be a place for some post-Rickshaw Run exploring.

A Mumbai street, with Victoria Terminus in the background, taken during my visit in January 2011. Not so bad eh?

Mumbai officially marks the half-way point of the journey. Are you exhausted already?  I certainly am, but bear with me, we’re on the home stretch.

PUNE!

Our route takes us towards the city of Pune, but again, we may decide to stick to the outskirts since it’s Maharashta’s second busiest city. On the way to Pune,  we will be passing by the hill station town of Lonavala, where I hope we will be able to spend a night. Why?

Image courtesy of Wikipedia commons

Does that answer your question?

We will then be heading southward bound, through the interesting town of Satara, which means ‘Seven Hills’, named after the peaks that surround the town that was once the capital of the Maharatha Empire in the 17th century. I had never heard of this place, but there are some wonderful sights around it such as waterfalls, rivers, lakes and the Sajjangad Fort, which is the final resting place of Samarth Ramdas, the prominent Marathi saint and religious poet.

It is also close by to the Kas Plateau, a world heritage listed site and home to these very pretty flowers:

Image courtesy of Wikipedia commons

Next, we will head into Goa, where Hannah’s boyfriend Lee will cook us dinner and give us foot massages! Providing we still have a rickshaw that is still in one piece, from Goa, I’d love to take the coast road for the remaining 786 kms to Cochin, Kerala. It will mean going against Google’s fastest route, but I have heard that it’s a good drive through coastal towns.

Alternatively, we can take the inland route via Mysore, which might be a good idea, as I think we will be needing some yoga by then!

FINISH LINE: COCHIN,  KERALA, JANUARY 14TH, 2013 (WE HOPE!)

We hope to make it to Cochin, the laid back capital of  the sleepy southern state of Kerala, in time for the Rickshaw Run closing party on January 14th. In the recent summer Rickshaw Run through northern India, 50 out of 70 teams made it to the finish line within the recommended time frame.

Those odds aren’t too bad!

The Chinese fishing nets in Cochin, Kerala

I know I am going to have to remain flexible and adaptable if I am going to enjoy this crazy journey. We will probably end up taking a route that is very different to the one I’ve mentioned here, but by throwing out a ‘hypothetical’ route, I feel a little bit more confident about it. To be honest, I’m not the best driver, just don’t tell my boyfriend that!  I am nervous to get behind the wheel of an auto-rickshaw, because throughout Tyrhone and my travels, I’ve most often been the navigator, not the driver. In Goa, I hope to rent a moped and get some practice in before hitting the open roads of India. Hopefully, I can gain the confidence I’ll need to live up to our team name, NAMASTE OUTTA MY WAY!

But there’s only one way to find out!

A very unsuspecting me on a Cochin street in 2010. Little did I know I would be learning to drive one of these cross-country!

********************

And where will be staying throughout the journey? Well, the answer is anywhere we can find! Our expedition is being supported by Hostelbookers, which we are very excited about. We will definitely be using them to peruse their extensive selection of hostels en route from Rajasthan to Kerala, but like I said, we’re going to have to be flexible and ready for anything. After all, this is India we’re talking about!

A pilgrim takes a nap on the ghats by the holy Ganges river, Varanasi, India.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Follow the adventure (it’s gonna be interesting)! Subscribe to Rickshaw Run Diaries, donate to Frank Water via our charity page and follow us on Facebook and Twitter.

I could write an entire blog post on the things that scare me about travelling, from sharks to jellyfish to body-snatching beasties and more… but instead, I am going to tell you about the one thing I am not remotely frightened of:

Driving 3,500km across India in a three-wheeled tin can.

Fear is the one thing people expect me to feel when I tell them what we are doing in the name of charity and adventure, but I can say with absolute certainty that when it comes to the Rickshaw Run, I am genuinely not scared at all.

Sure, there are parts of it that concern me slightly, like the fact that our rickshaw is bound to break down at least once a day and neither I nor my team mates have any mechanical skills whatsoever, but for some reason I just have faith that we will be ok. I have this faith because I believe in what we are doing, but more importantly in this instance, I believe that we will always find people to help us.

I believe in the kindness of strangers.

I do not subscribe to any religion, and have no God to pray to for protection, but I have faith that when we need help, the right people will present themselves to us. I believe that language barriers and cultural differences aside, we will find a way to work together and keep going, and I believe that it will be these unavoidable breakdowns and misadventures that will prove to be the hidden gift of this whole experience.

Some of you may find this belief naïve or overly optimistic, and maybe it is, but here in India, I have learnt through experience that a helping hand and an open heart is never far away.

I am currently a little under one month into my new life of indefinite round the world travel, and the last of the Namaste Outta My Way team members to finally hit the road. At the moment I am living in a lovely little house in Goa, India, where I will be until I head to Jaisalmer in Rajasthan to begin the Rickshaw Run.

This is my seventh visit to this amazing country, filled with magic and mayhem on a scale I have never experienced anywhere else. India makes me feel all kinds of happy, and the people here inspire me to live wholeheartedly every day. There is an openness here, long forgotten where I come from in England; a kindness and generosity of spirit that renews your faith in humanity, and the power of good.

Driving around the countryside in Goa, through the lush green rice paddies and hills densely blanketed in jungle, human connection ripples through the land as warmly as the breeze. People appear from nowhere to wave and shout “Hal-low!” with a sense of glee so infectious it leaves you beaming as you continue to drive past. Stop for a moment on what appears to be a deserted road and people of all ages magically appear from nowhere, offering a friendly smile and prerequisite nod of the head.

Indian people always want to know why you have come to their country, and are especially interested to talk to me when they hear I have visited so many times before. Their visible pride is matched by their inquisitiveness. Have you seen the Taj Mahal? they ask. What other places have you visited? Where are you going next? Why do you like my country so much?

When my boyfriend Lee and I were lost in Mumbai at the start of our travels, a young woman we stopped to ask for directions at a bus stop actually got up and walked with us to make sure we didn’t get lost again. When we did just a short while later, a man happily changed direction and walked and chatted with us down the street, his conversation peppered with questions on why we were visiting his homeland, and what we were going to do while we were here.

Oftentimes I find conversations with women can lead to particularly personal revelations about our cultural differences, their thoughts on arranged marriage, and longing for the freedom I am so lucky to have been afforded, simply by being born in a different country. Little happenstances like these can change the course of your day in an instant, and teach you more than you ever dreamed possible.

From the snow-capped Himalayas to the golden beaches of southern Goa, the people of India have touched my heart in so many ways, and left an indelible mark on my soul. And it is these people that we will surely be turning to as Kim, Sarah and I putter our way across the scorching landscape in our mobile hunk of metal.

It is my many varied experiences here in India that allows for my absence of fear as the three of us prepare to drive headlong into the wildest adventure of our lives. I am not afraid, because I have seen the kindness of strangers, and I have faith that I will see it again.

Back in May, through the random magic of twitter, I had coffee with a lovely woman who has traveled extensively. We’d met so that she could tell me about her experience hiking the Camino de Santiago, something I’d like to do one day.

When I mentioned that I had signed up to participate in the Rickshaw Run she laughed and said: “Like driving a rickshaw through India?”

“Yep,” I’d responded, “just like that.”

“I know someone who did that!” she exclaimed, clearly just as shocked by the coincidence as I was. “His name is Doughnut. I’ll put you in touch.”

Two weeks later I found myself sitting in a Portland bar with Doughnut, a man of about forty with a big bald head and a wild red beard, and his longtime friend and Rickshaw Run partner Mark. They had greeted me warmly and were entertaining and terrifying me in equal parts as they recounted their Rickshaw Run experiences.

Mark and Doughnut

“Do you have any mechanical skills?” Doughnut asked me.

“No,” I replied sheepishly, “I can’t even change the oil in my car.”

They gave each other a weary look.

“Well, our rickshaw broke down over sixty times,” they said, laughing in that way you do when recalling experiences that are funny after the fact. “We had to completely rebuild the carbonator on the side of the road.”

“And one time our fuel tank fell off,” said Mark, chuckling.

I scribbled BRING DUCT TAPE onto the paper I’d been taking notes on. Then Doughnut and Mark patiently relayed a list of tools they recommended we carry as I frantically wrote their suggestions into my notebook.

“Bring a wrench,” said Doughnut.

“Okay,” I replied. “What does a wrench look like?”

**********

“Do you have anymore questions?” Doughnut asked. It was getting late and we were a couple of beers in. The more I drank the more convinced I became that I’d just gotten myself in way over my head.

“Did anyone die?” I asked, cringing in anticipation of the answer.

They thought on it for a minute before responding.

“No, no deaths,” said Mark, I felt myself relaxing. “But two teams flipped their rickshaws. There were a few broken bones.”  The relief hadn’t lasted long.

“The hospitals in India are very good,” said Doughnut, trying to reassure me. “If you end up in one you’ll probably get good care.”

**********

Back at home I relayed everything that Doughnut and Mark had told me about the Rickshaw Run to my husband.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he said solemnly. “What in the world will you do if your fuel tank falls off? You don’t even know what a fuel tank looks like!”

“Fix it?” I shrugged my shoulders. “Doughnut and Mark said that the Indian people would never leave us stranded on the side of the road.”

“I don’t know…” he said, his voice trailing off. “It sounds kind of crazy to me.”

A few days later I emailed Doughnut and Mark to thank them for taking the time to share their experiences with me.

“It’s no problem at all,” Doughnut responded. “You’ll have a great time. It was one of the best adventures of my life.”

I’ve had a few months to think on it and I’ve decided to believe that Doughnut is right. One thing I’ve learned on my travels so far is that people are good, things often appear scarier than they are in real life, and that vehicles, even rickshaws I hope, keep running long after they should have tuckered out.

And that the best adventures are usually the crazy ones.

********** 

We have some exciting updates!

We are excited to announce that Wimdu and Atlas Cruises and Tours have signed on as official supporters of Team Namaste Outta My Way.

Wimdu helps travelers book private accommodations all over the world. They have over 50,000 properties worldwide- from shared flats to apartments to houseboats.  Wimdu gives travelers the opportunity to travel like locals by offering accommodations off the tourist track.

We were going to launch this thing back in June. Then July. When September rolled around, I think we all separately started to think it might not happen.

You see, trying to start a new blog and co-ordinate a 3,500km journey across India whilst raising a shed load of money for charity doesn’t just happen.

Especially when it’s down to three women from three different continents who have never so much as Skyped each other! Let’s just say we could compile a novel with the email feed over the last nine months (and we just might…).

And then a week ago, it happened. We announced our crazy adventure to the world, and you responded! You said, “Better you than me!” (my boyfriend), “I want to do that!” (Irina), “Can’t wait to follow along!” (Margaret) and “I’m praying for your safe return!” (Carmel), but none of you said “You can’t do this.”

You all rallied behind us in spite of your rational thoughts of “they’re nuts” or “are they insane?”

You kindly hid those thoughts from us and plastered smiles on your faces, and tweeted and Facebooked and donated your support. And that’s why we love you; because like us, you’re not listening to that rational voice of reason that tells you that tackling just one kilometer of India’s precarious road system in a three-wheeled, ride-on mower is about as smart as using a hairdryer in the bath.

And the result? We’ve reached 19% of our GBP£2,000 fundraising target!!! Thanks to the generosity of Phillipa, Adam, Maddie, Sophia, Charlie, Alaina, Hristina, David, Michelle and Glenn and a couple of anonymous donations, we’ve already raised GBP£380.00 (USD$617.00) for FRANK Water, our nominated charity.

Thanks to your generosity, UK based FRANK Water can now run more community-based clean water programs throughout India. So thank you guys!

Image courtesy of FRANK Water

“We cannot do great things. We can only do little things with great love.” - Mother Theresa

To top that off, this story, written by our friend and reader, T. Sudheesh was published in Indian newspapers the Deccan Chronical and the Asian Age:

Having a story written about our little expedition in an Indian newspaper the day after we launched was far beyond our expectations!

And then in the twitter-sphere we received more messages of support, racking up over 300 followers of The Rickshaw Run Diaries in the first week. Here’s some of our favourites:

I must say, the day after the launch, I had a very serious social media hangover! The only remedy was a swim in the ocean and a road trip to some ancient Mayan ruins (yep, that’ll put things into perspective!).

But it was all worth it.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you all. We know there are challenges ahead, too many to think about right now. Instead we’re focusing on the love and support you have sent our way. It gives buoyancy to this crazy dream of ours and makes us think that we might even succeed.

THANK YOU.

If you can’t donate right now, we totally understand. Your thoughts, words, emails, tweets and Facebook mentions help us more than you could imagine.

I leave you with this quote, which sums up the last week perfectly:

“A mountain is composed of tiny grains of earth. The ocean is made up of tiny drops of water. Even so, life is but an endless series of little details, actions, speeches, and thoughts. And the consequences whether good or bad of even the least of them are far-reaching.” - Sivananda, Sri Swami

Follow the adventure! Subscribe to Rickshaw Run Diaries, donate via our charity page and follow us on Facebook and Twitter @RRDiaries.