Back down to earth

After yesterday's exertion and excitement we decide to allow ourselves a lazy day. The sun is shining, the sky is blue and there is no evidence of yesterday's weather event apart from a few puddles. A few quid is invested in delaying our check out until 4 p.m, when our taxi is booked for the trip to Pathankot for our overnight train. We take a leisurely breakfast in the Green Cafe before having a first run at the packing. It looks to be manageable so we sort ourselves out for a spin round the town. The weather is so benign that D digs out his shorts and sandals for this promenade. First stop is the recycling centre who seem pleased to receive D's cast off day pack. We have a small shopping list and work our way around the town ticking things off. Most of the requirements are easily sorted,  a couple take a bit more searching,  while one item in particular proves totally elusive. Accepting that we might have to miss out on that one we retire to the garden of the Bhagsu hotel for refreshment. This is run by the state tourism department and has much of the atmosphere of a down at heel Highland hotel.

Pleasant as it is to sit in the sun drinking beer/lime soda tempus fugits and we need to finish the packing. This proves to be more straightforward than we feared allowing us to head off in good spirits to a late lunch. Our train is at 9.20 pm and we have a four hour taxi ride to Pathankot Cantonment Station before that. We like the food at the Tibet Kitchen, just off the main square, and they serve a dish called shapta which is slices of roast lamb cooked with onions, peppers, garlic and chilli, which is highly recommended. D goes for this with garlic, chilli fried potatoes while R has veg thukpa, a huge portion of veg and noodle soup. The service is not what you call express and we have to skip the intriguingly named "Hello to the Queen" for pud. We sort ourselves out and bid farewell to the Green Hotel. Tenzin turns up almost on time and we load up.

The traffic is quiet and the drive down through McLeodganj in the afternoon sunshine is quite pleasant. Tenzin knows his way about and takes back roads that avoid the cricket related security blocks around Dharamshala. When we hit the main road he ups the speed and it is soon apparent that the run will not take much more than 2 hours. We get glimpses of snow covered peaks to our north and for a few miles run alongside a river through rocky gorges. Crossing a vast dried up river bed we see that the Kangra Valley Railway is running parallel to us. We pass a station where the signals are set for an eastbound train. Just then we hit the Himachal Pradesh Punjab border where we have to stop to pay tax and just miss seeing the train. Round the corner is a level crossing with the traditional post train shenanigans going on and it is fascinating to watch Tenzin jockey for position and successfully negotiate the madhouse. Our route skirts Pathankot city and brings us in past the entrance to Pathankot Air Force Station where there was a terrorist attack a couple of months ago. Tenzin drops us at the station and we wish him a safe trip home.

It may be unfair to judge a place on its railway stations alone but the rest of Pathankot needs to be something special to outweigh the two dumps that Indian Railways have saddled it with. R is totally unwilling to give any benefit of doubt. Cantonment station is home to thousands of mynah birds that are just coming in to roost as the sun goes down. The platform seats are streaked in guano. D manages to find the AC waiting room which is mynah free but does have mosquitos.  The AC is not working except in the gents bog. We dig out the Jungle Formula and bug up. The good news is that the online charts show that we have been allocated a coupe. We realise that bad planning leaves us without the means to celebrate this in our customary style. D is delegated to put this right. Outside the station a couple of auto drivers seem keen on business.  

"Anyone speak English?". "Oh yes sir" " To liquor shop, wait two minutes,  back here. How much?" "100 rupees" We set off but after about a hundred yards stop to chat to a stallholder." Where do you want to go?" D repeats liquor store then tries wine shop which does the trick. We ride a kilometre or so and stop at a suitably disreputable looking shop. The last thing that this place sells is wine, they don't even have Buckfast. Nor do they have brandy and suggest Bacardi in lieu. The bottle appears to been on the shelf since before Castro took over in Cuba. They are a bit short of small sizes altogether and D takes a chance on Royal Challenge Indian whisky. It can't be that bad. It's named after a cricket team. A bottle of club soda is seriously out of the question here. Let's hope that the station caterers have Sprite.

They don't, nor do they have Seven-up and seem surprised when D turns down the Mountain Dew that they offer. We have seen Indian billboards that advertise this stuff, saying in very large letters "Contains no real fruit" as if that is an added benefit. A walk off the station premises is required and even then the first two stops are pure MD. D is now equally convinced that Pathankot is a dump and a particularly noisy one. All it has in its favour is that we have not seen any rodents. Yet.  Just as the mynahs start to fall silent the Indian Air Force launches a couple of squadrons of jets, one by one, which shake the station buildings and have us covering our ears. While out of the station D sees a couple fly over with flames shooting out of the back as they climb.

Our train starts to show late on the board. R is not pleased. D goes to find out which end of the train our coach will be at. Indiarailinfo says second coach from loco, the charts say nineteenth.  The man in the stationmaster's office seems unsure,  makes a phone call and points to the rear of the train. That's good enough for D and when the preceeding train, running 30 minutes late, leaves we pick up our kit and head towards that end of the platform. But how far to go? This Rajdhani is not as long as many Indian trains, it won't fill the full length of the platform. We go three quarters of the way, to a spot with a working lamp post, ground the bags and D goes in search of further enlightenment. There are two guys who look well dressed and D asks if they are waiting for the Rajdhani. They are and they have tickets for coach B3 which is almost as far away from H1 as you can get on this train. The one who speaks suggests that D hires a coolie. Even if D were inclined to do this there are no coolies to be seen. An older Sikh man has overheard this conversation and says that he will be on A4, next coach but one to us. He seems very confident and the B3 chaps decide to move to the other end of the platform. 

The train comes in 40 minutes late. We have to walk about 3 coach lengths to H1 but at least it is not the full length of the platform. We find Coupe E, stow the bags and wait for the roses to be delivered.  Instead we get our complimentary mineral waters and a man asking if we want dinner. "No thanks, is there any tea?". " Sorry. No tea." Another man comes to ask about dinner and when we demurr he asks if we want ice cream. "OK then". After a while two teas arrive,  followed by the TTE, who doesn't even want to see our ticket let alone our passports. We make up the beds, lock the door and open the Indian Whisky.  It smells just like Indian Brandy, and mixed with Sprite tastes just the same as well. Time for bed. The train is due into New Delhi at 5 am.