Tours n Travails - Rishikesh. Part 2 of 4

The following interior monologue is based on personal experiences except the parts that might get me into trouble. Those are purely fictional.

Red Chilli Adventures is a copyrighted trademark company. I have no money to be sued.

This is the second installment of a 4 part series. You have to read the previous one(s) to truly deprecate the ones following.

We manage to reach Rishikesh, without any bullet wounds, around about 7 a.m. After asking no less than 27 people, we reach the raft organizers head quarters. A quiet short muscular Nepali boy raises the shutters and invites us in. The first thing I notice about the office of Red Chilli Adventures is that it is extremely clean. That impresses me cause I consider cleanliness next to godliness and anybody who has entered my room will agree that I’m agnostic. The place also has numerous pictures on the wall of previous clients rafting or hiking. Surprisingly the office doubles up as an Internet café, which seemed odd but I soon realize that tourists regularly need to check their mails or print out their e-tickets. Invariably more than a handful would sign up for a rafting or hiking excursion (after seeing a picture and saying I could do that). Tremendous product strategy to say the least.

As it’s a little too early, none of our guides or co-rafters has shown up. We decide to walk around the town and S.L. remembers that he has to buy soap. I tell him that he’s taking the washing away sins part a little too literally but he insists. Five minutes later, dettol soap in hand, the three of us enter a local grub house named Tip Top restaurant to have breakfast. The look of the place did little to justify the name but I’ve eaten, in my college days, at veritable shit holes like Hotel Dreamland so there was hardly any reason to kick up a fuss. After ordering the most horrible channa puri I have ever eaten I continued my almost Marshall Eriksen-esque search for the ultimate Panner Paratha. Unfortunately this wasn’t it. Furthermore half way through my cup of tea I notice there’s a dead spider in it. I decide to extract it and continue with my beverage concluding that if the concoction hadn’t killed me yet it probably wasn’t going to do so anytime soon. Plus call me cheap but there’s no point wasting tea paid for by debatably hard work- involving pressing keys at regular intervals.

We make our way to the Red Chilli office once again, where the guides (unfortunately not the cookie selling variety) are waiting. We meet Avnesh – an extremely pleasant chap who has been involved in water sports for 14 years. He tells us that he has experience rafting in almost all rivers of India and also professionally in Colorado, Norway and down the Blue Nile in Ethiopia. I could counter by telling him that I’ve worked with computers in both Bangalore and Noida but I, for one, don’t like to brag. He introduces us to another guide- a tall New Zealander bloke. He speaks out his name; I can’t catch the kiwi accent but through the garble it sounds like ‘Ent’. I want to ask him if his parents are LOTR fans but before I can the owner Avinash helps me out by saying out “It’s Ant. We Indians pronounce it differently”. Right. If, by different, you mean correct. The third guide is the muscular Nepali boy- Jeevan who would actually turn out to be the captain of out raft, barking orders while we paddled for dear life.

We wait for our co-rafters - a couple to arrive and I choose to pass the time by leering at the fair skinned golden haired tourists while they browse the web. Now I prefer my women to be dusky and dark haired but like all brown men I can’t help but going “Ooo Shiny” once in a while. Thankfully, before the women get too uncomfortable, one half of the couple, a stout Russian imaginatively named Sergei, arrives. He informs us that his wife will not be joining us as she has hurt herself during their morning yoga experiments. A mental picture of a not very well-executed hazardous tantric sex maneuver comes to my mind but I don’t dwell on it. I am slightly disappointed, meeting a real live Russian women being a childhood dream of mine, at least the part of childhood with access to the Internet.

So the eight of us – 3 guides, 4 noobes and Avinash set off up the mountain, on the company Pajero, to reach the point from where we’d begin our expedition. The ride takes the better part of an hour as the road is under repairs. It was being maintained by the army, but somebody forgot to tell them that. As we travel we can see the clear Ganges flowing below. I learn Rishikesh is the place where the river exits the mountains and enters the northern plains and as a self-confessed geography nut that fascinates me. We pass by the rapids as we climb up and Avnesh tells us their names each time – ‘Jail no Bail’, ‘Rollercoaster’, ‘Double-Trouble’ etc. I am less than amused.

We eventually reach the starting point and help unload the kayaks, rafts and other gear from the top of the jeep. This was just the beginning of the hard work. I don’t like to complain but physical effort and I go about as well together as monogamy and Tiger Woods. Avnesh hands out skin-hugging wet suits which don’t exactly show off my figure and I’m almost glad Sergei’s wife didn’t make it. Almost. To add to that, the wet suits aren’t exactly made peeing friendly. And, before you start wondering, I’m not talking about in the water, rather land peeing. I haven’t done it in water since I grew up. About 3 months ago. Anyways I’ve done it in harsher conditions so I make do.

Avnesh then proceeds to let us know of the safety procedures- like what you would have to do if you fall of the raft and are close by or far off or under the raft or if the raft flips. They even make us sign one of those waiver forms, which say that they aren’t responsible for any unfortunate events that might occur. As you may have guessed, I was really eager to sign that. Though, truthfully, they seemed to know what they were talking about which was a relief. He also shows us how to hold a paddle- always in a T-grip else you risk chipping of your co-passengers teeth when the ride becomes a bit rough. This safety talk was getting more and more fun exactly like my team meetings at work where all one does is smile uncomfortably while the manager rants on. A helmet, a splash jacket and a life jacket complete our outfit and leave me feeling like an armored warrior all set to conquer the seven seas.

To be continued