Get Me to Gangtok

New Jalpaiguri is a 'suburb' of Siliguri - the center of commerce and transportation for northern West Bengal and Sikkim.  The train station was busy (though no where near on the order of New Delhi), and represented a gateway to a world with which we would become familiar if never really comfortable: the land of the share taxi. 

A news photo of the share taxi 'stand' in Gangtok on a busy day, which is to say like almost everyday.

The station at Siliguri is the closest train stop to all of the cities and villages to the north, including Darjeeling and Gangtok and many others with a total population of close to a million people.   Not far away is the Bagdroga airport - the last place large and flat enough to house a commercial airport before the verticality of the Himalaya takes over.   Because the roads heading up into the hills are narrow, winding and typically in poor shape, it isn't practical to run large buses or even smaller buses on them.  This means that there is no mass transit from here on in.  The roads are dominated by what Americans might call a mid-size SUV: 4 doors, a third row seat in the back, cargo rack on top, low-geared diesel engine and one fearless, steel willed driver who's intimate familiarity with his vehicle begs some uncomfortable questions.  In the US, a dealership might advertise that these 'jeeps' would seat 6 comfortably and 8 with a little intimacy.  In India, you aren't even near capacity until you've crammed 12 people in there and piled enough cargo on the roof to make a pyramid top heavy.  Some even sold passenger space on the roof.  After an hour or two in the middle of that rear seat, the roof spots seemed like a pretty tempting spot - if only reserved for those with a death wish, and iron grip or both.


This system has 2 major advantages to the traveler.  First is that there is almost always a share taxi almost ready to depart wherever you are to wherever you need to go.  'Almost' may mean anywhere between 5 minutes and an hour - but there doesn't seem to be much '4 hour layover' type stuff going on.  Second, it's darned cheap.  Our trip from New Jalpaiguri to Gangtok was about 115km (~70 miles), but would take over 5 1/2 hours on the crazy mountain roads.  For this 330 minute E-ticket ride one typically pays around 200 rupees ($5).  Because it was raining when we caught our taxi (always complicates negotiations) and we left with 3 rather than 4 passengers in the rear seat we ended up paying a little more.  Still a bargain by any standard. 


The government of Sikkim actually regulates the share taxi system, and has established taxi stands, standard rates and a very elaborate system of licensure for taxi drivers.  Of course - we weren't IN Sikkim yet...so it was a 'anything goes' situation at the moment.

Our share jeep at a roadside cafe-rest area.  

To say that the ride is a part of the adventure is a huge understatement.  The ride up Mount Lemmon in AZ is like a pleasure cruise on a 12 lane superhighway compared to this drive.  


Have you seen the show on the History Channel?  IRT Deadliest Roads?  All the crazy painted trucks, insane traffic and horn honking?  It's real.  The steep drop offs with drivers passing with one set of tires in the air above a cliff?  That's real.  Kids puking out the window and it blowing back at you?  Okay - not on the show, but it's real, too.  This was one crazy bit of road.  


And this one was the one reported by locals and tourists to be the 'national highway' that was in good shape.  If you call having potholes that could swallow an aircraft carrier and single lane bridges that were designed for transporting sheep good condition, then you're right.  


Sarah said (after a long time had passed outside the car) that she thought I was exaggerating a bit.  I tried to 'film' the ride, but the results from my center-seat position were less than successful and tend to make me nauseous when I watch them.  That fact, alone, though should let you know what it was REALLY like.   The horn honking seemed to be crucial to how the whole system functioned.  So much so, that most 'goods carrier' trucks had some sort of message to that effect painted on the rear of the truck:

In case you're wondering, a 'dipper' is the switch that lowers your high beams...

How could anyone refuse such a happy request?

Sarah captured many more colorful truck 'bottoms' than I did, and inspired the following list:

When to Blow Your Horn on Indian Roads

• When passing a car/truck/scooter/bicycle on the left.
• When passing a car/truck/scooter/bicycle on the right.
• When you pass a pedestrian.
• When you see a pedestrian.
• When you see a dog/cat/sheep/chicken/cow/ox/monkey near the road.
• When coming around a blind corner.
• When coming around a partially visual corner.
• When stopping behind/beside another stopped car - whether or not they have anywhere to go. 
• While waiting behind/beside other stopped cars.
• When passing other taxi drivers you know stopped at a roadside cafe.
• Just for the hell of it.

We stopped once for the driver to have a smoke/meal/drink/bathroom break.  I managed to get a few photos off, but the rain and poor weather were still working against me.  

Not a terribly interesting photo until you realize that the space between the guard rail and the retaining wall was essentially the men's room...

Now that's road-trip food there...anyone for a coconut?

I hoped to get a better photo of this plant later in the trip, but it proved elusive when we were stopped, even though it was everywhere while we were driving.  It's called an Indian Screw Pine.

The taxi also had to stop at the Sikkim border in Rangpo, and as the only non-Indians in the vehicle we were ordered out to have our permits examined by the border authorities.  Sikkim, sharing so much of it's international border with China, is a special zone within India, and international tourists are required to get a 'Inner Line' permit to visit.  To obtain the permit, we went to the first office for International Tourists, then across the street to the pastry shop for photocopies of our passports and passport photos, then to a second office where our names were entered into a massive ledger (I'll come back to ledgers later) and we were given a simple sheet of paper with our names and a stamp from sort of authority, then back to the first office for the accompanying stamp in our passports.  Then we piled back into the taxi (the rest of the passengers had simply waited inside) and were back up the road.

A group erecting some sort of pavilion near the cultural center in Rangpo.

Once we arrived at the Taxi stand at Deorali (just below Gangtok on the hillside), we were promptly kicked out of the jeep and left standing in the rain, once again, with about 3km to go to the hotel we wanted to try for our first night.   I realized after just a short bit of standing that I had taxi/train legs - a similar sensation to sea legs, only with the quick and repetitive motion of the train.  We had to get ourselves centered and figure out our next move.


In India, this almost always meant time for tea.  


We found a little cafe near the taxi stand and ordered some tea and a bowl of soup.  This was my first bowl of Tibetan Thukpa (also called Guptka or Thugkpa) - and it wouldn't be my last.  Now here was something I could really fall in love with!  It was more than just soup - it was a quick remedy for motion sickness and train legs.  

mmm...

Happy Wendy

We decided that even with the Trekkers Triple Carry Technique, it would be a long walk up the hill into Gangtok proper - and we didn't even really know exactly where our hotel would be located.  A local taxi would be the best option, and would get us to a place to rest and clean up faster than anything else.  


We arrived at the Hotel Sonam Delek, which was on our list of higher-priced if dependably clean and safe options.  Perfect for our first night in town.  The bargain rooms in the basement were clean and bright, if lacking in a real view, and were only 1100rs per night (about $22).  Unfortunately, they would only be available for one night before a large tour group came in and gobbled them up.  It suited us fine - we really just wanted a place to stash our bags and shower before we went and explored Gangtok itself.  It was perfect.

Basement room in Sonam Delek...not bad!

Finally stopped for the first time in over 26 hours, we allowed our luggage to explode, washed the road and train grime from our bodies and arranged ourselves for a girls-night-on-the-town.  Yup - it was time to eat again!