All great and important sagas must have an end. They must have a hero and a good deal of danger, romance, territory and emphasis on detail. I chose to be the narrator of this story because on a cool autumn day in eastern Canada when the maples turned red, and my motorcycle season was cut … Continue reading Transmission 21: Hail the Road and the Rider, and Home Alas
Transmission 20 – The Art of Micro-trips
I've burned maybe three liters of fuel in the last two months, and that's alarming for me. I've had to rediscover and re-imagine creative ways to stay in the saddle during the cyclic nature of the lockdown while the nation is on hiatus. When all consumerist business is stripped down to their undergarments, and only … Continue reading Transmission 20 – The Art of Micro-trips
Transmission 19: Doing Time
I feel as if there were many things left unsaid in the last transmission. Although nothing concrete has happened on the ground concerning my exit from India, I feel the imperative need to put some flesh on the bones of what my reality looks like, the people I interact with everyday, and the implications of … Continue reading Transmission 19: Doing Time
Transmission 18: Shelter in Place
What can you do left when most of your basic civil rites are taken away, businesses bar their doors, families batten down the domestic hatches, social intimacy is considered taboo, and you are cooped up inside an international backpackers hostel in a foreign country... As India initiated for a 21 day lock-down over the entire … Continue reading Transmission 18: Shelter in Place
Transmission 17: Rebel Ride at 12,000 Feet
Up before the sun, I cook my porridge and stuff my military backpack with a few weekend warrior supplies, a change of clothes for high altitude, some compelling Indian literature, a cold flask and a hot thermos of turkish coffee, so I can sip the bitter brews while at an eagles eye view of the … Continue reading Transmission 17: Rebel Ride at 12,000 Feet
Transmission 16: Of Man and Beast
The naturalness of the 300km between Nainital and Rishikesh, it felt a lot more like the elder Asia I had seen in film documentaries. Extensive tracts of terraces shaped from the steeply sloping land for agriculture use, a hundred shade blanket of greens, and limitless views of the far flung horizon. It was a riders … Continue reading Transmission 16: Of Man and Beast
Transmission 15 – A More Familiar Resting Place
Life in Nainital was a lot more gentle than the mayhem and misery in Varanasi, and I found myself approaching a more familiar land of pines, spruce and oaks, with snow shirted himalayas in the horizon, tiny cliff side settlements and terraced gardens where lithe village people hiked up and down the mountain roads to … Continue reading Transmission 15 – A More Familiar Resting Place
Transmission 14 – The River Ganges, Hustlers, and the Burning Ghats
Varanasi was the first time I saw a dead body in plain sight. Along the banks of the Manikarnaka and Haraschandra ghats are the burning pyres that are steadily lit day and night, and have been for thousands of years. Here in Hindu faith is the holiest place to die, the bodies are carried down … Continue reading Transmission 14 – The River Ganges, Hustlers, and the Burning Ghats
Transmission 13 – “Sound Horn, Ok, Please”
Probably a worse danger than the state of India's roads are the drivers themselves. I have a prayer where I hail the road and the rider before every trip. Even a goat track with terrible topographical features can be navigated solo with the right gusto and skill on two wheels, but trying to get up … Continue reading Transmission 13 – “Sound Horn, Ok, Please”
Transmission 12 – Hello Gandi/Back into Tiger Territory
A new moon would soon signify the auspicious night of Shiva, so as I hastened my horse north of Nagpur, I at last made it to the northern half of India, on a pilgrimage towards the small village of Parsodi, where I would sleep the next four nights in an ashram. The bike would have … Continue reading Transmission 12 – Hello Gandi/Back into Tiger Territory
the motorcycle mantras 