Jim's Junket

Before I checked out of the hotel, I walked across the road to see the fort, nestled in the large park opposite. Kangla was the original ancient city where Imphal now stands and was the capital until Imphal took over in 1891. Kangla palace was home to King Pakhangba around 33 AD, and is now more ruin that stately home. It stands in a park with its own moat that runs most of the way round. The land is partly landscaped, but a few areas are overgrown and pretty much derelict.

I head out on the Imphal-Moreh Road or Highway 102 towards the hills. Before I get there, I have to say that Moreh has a bit of a reputation. Not only is it a well-known crossing for smugglers, but is happens to be a centre of the heroin trade. Well, that and amphetamines and a selection of other things to boot. Last year a big timber smuggling ring was busted here, so the contraband can take almost any form.

The roads are easily navigated, but a line of very large trucks passes me and this seems to be quite commercial. The mountains are not so high in the first stretch, and I soon approach the border crossing down a straight road. There is quite a queue, so I pull over and eat something while I wait. While there have been travellers crossing into Burma from India with their own vehicles, the general consensus seems to be that it is very hard. Permits can be organized from your own country in most cases, but international restrictions on Burma makes it all a bit of a problem. Either way, an Indian permit will be needed to go through Manipur, and an MTT permit will be required to get to Tamu. Some people report that a permit to get from Tamu to Kalewa, where I’m going, is needed, but I couldn’t confirm that.

An hour goes by and I move slowly up. I hand my papers to one of the guards and I am moved forward through the arch and into a large open square. There are some shops around one side, but I don’t stop. The main road takes me off into Burma and I eventually find the road south towards Kalewa. Less than half an hour south I pass through Khomunnom, a small village and home to the Khomunnom cave. Various kinds of Paleolithic tools for cutting and polishing were found and collected. These tools were used during the lower Paleolithic Era and probable culture of 200,000-50,000 BC. This Cave is one of the oldest and biggest rock shelters in the world.

Google maps suggests a drive of just over four hours, but the roads are not perfect and my camper does a steady fifty miles an hour. I pass by the Myit Thar bridge and into Kalewa. It’s a low, unassuming town much larger than I thought, and the river Myittha makes for an idyllic view. I will find a place to park up and spend the night in the camper. Tomorrow, I will head south to Mandalay.

Before I leave this morning, I find that I am 11,000 miles from home. Google maps tells me that it would take about five days and 20 hours if I headed back now. This does, of course, assume that I will be doing the state speed limits and didn’t stop much [Or at all!], but my lovely camper is too nice to trash.

Instead, and in the true spirit of the journey, I leave Silchar just before 10:00 and head out of the top of the city and onto the NH53 east to Imphal. I fill up the tank, buy some fresh fruit for the drive and head off. After a few twists and turns, I realise that there are mountains ahead.

It's a bit hilly around here.

I roughly follow the winding Borek river that I crossed yesterday. At Lakhipur I stop and watch the ferry head across the river. This is a small, but busy town and a number of ferries move all sorts of things from one side to the other.

As I head up into the Manipur hills, the roads become more gravel-based. It’s noticeably cooler up here. The hill region is classed as a sub-himalayan range and forms a very neat ring around the capital city, Imphal. The highest in the range is over 12,000 ft. (Approx. 3,600 m.) As I head up the road, I am already in the lush forest that line the mountains. Most of the road is at an elevation of 500 to 700m, and the sharp ridges are paired with steep drops on many sides. I wind around the peaks and meet the occasional river. It’s dry today, and I am happy with that, given that the roads are nothing more than open gravel and the occasional steep drop-away. This time of year tends to be largely dry, with May/June being the hottest months. I meet a number of military convoys along the road and let them pass. The area has quite a story to tell.

The game polo originated in Manipur. British soldiers and planters took it back to England, changed the rules a little and made it popular around the world.

As I head north I watch the land roll by. Small herds of cattle stand waiting and the fields are being prepared for the spring. People work hard here, that’s for sure. I pass a group of women carrying large bundles along the roadside and even the children do their part. Like other river deltas, Bangladesh is a very fertile place.

There are no rocks, stones, boulders or pebbles. No sandy beaches. It’s all silt and mud washed down from the Himalayan mountains over millions of years. Most people farm. Though I see people farming every day, I haven’t seen a tractor. But I am also aware that there is hard work for little return, and I get that some, if not all, of these people are struggling. In Chandura, about half way to my destination of Sylhet, the river flows to my left and I watch a number of small boats going about their business. Fishing is a bit thing, and supplies most of their protein, and the throw nets are so skillfully.

It’s pretty hot today, and the gauge in the camper tells me it’s 32c. I don’t need a dial to tell me that it’s also very humid. I occasionally get stuck behind a slow moving cart and the owner is often friendly enough to let me by, but not always. Some parts of the road are quite narrow. I arrive in Sylhet a little later than expected. Some of the roads are less navigable than others, and the Bangladeshi people, especially the children, have found my appearance to be very distracting. They do like to come up and stare at you, or prod in some cases. A young boy, who started out trying to sell me a bowl, ended up just holding onto my shirt tails as I bought some fruit and vegetables in his town. OK, I bought the bowl!

I dodge rickshaws all the way in on the main road. I am ‘booked’ in at the Hotel Dallas in an economy room that costs just BDT 400 (About $10) For that I get a much more reasonable room than I anticipated. I thought I would get a cupboard in someone else’s room!