(written by Mirne in the evening of Wednesday 2nd April,
2014)
We have not had a good day today.
We got up this morning in Jagdalpur, had a very uninspiring
breakfast, and went to settle our account for the room and food. Had an argument with the staff at reception,
none of whom spoke any English, about the fact that the manager had agreed a
20% discount on the room rate, and had in fact agreed a fixed amount with us which
included all taxes.
Anyone who has travelled in India will know of the taxes
which accompany hotel bills. There’s
luxury tax, service tax, VAT, etc, etc.
You can inevitably add an additional quarter of the amount to your bill,
and then you’ve got about the right amount.
Anyway, our bill had the reduced rate for the room, but not
for the tax. So they were charging us
tax over the un-reduced room rate.
Right. Paying tax over money
which we had not paid. The staff did not
see anything wrong with that.
So we argued for a few minutes and then gave up. The manager wasn’t there, and wasn’t
reachable by telephone. Right.
On our way soon enough, on the road at 9.15 am, where we quickly
realized when we’d left the county/province of Chhattisgarh, because the roads
immediately became much worse.
We had planned to drive just over 300 km today, and then
stay overnight on the coast – which meant we would then be only about 850 km
from Chennai.
:::
I think we’ve written about Indian drivers before. I think it is enough to say that they don’t
fear death, injury, car-crashes or anything.
This is clear from the way Indian drivers overtake other vehicles
(whether that be trucks, cars, bikes, motor-cycles, cows, water buffalo, dogs,
whatever).
One of the death-defying feats of Indian drivers is to
overtake when they see there is on-coming traffic. On-coming traffic does not deter the average
Indian driver. The average Indian driver
just assumes everyone, including any on-coming traffic, will get out of his
way. This leads to some very near
misses, which we see all the time.The average Indian driver also overtakes at
speed when he cannot see what, if anything, is on-coming. For example, when there is a rise in the road,
or when there is a blind corner.
Today we saw a feat which did not defy death.
We were more than halfway on our journey, and we were
driving through a mountain range. The
road was easily wide enough for two vehicles (often it is not), and we were
heading up the mountain, on the left side of the road. We had a truck / lorry
(15 or 20 tonne) in front us. As we
headed up the hill, we took a corner which was going slightly left, so we
suddenly saw the on-coming traffic.
Everything is suddenly in slow motion. Craig and I both immediately see two trucks /
lorries (15 or 20 tonne vehicles) coming down the hill, in both the up and down
lanes, heading directly towards the truck in front of us and towards us. Obviously the truck in the left lane had been
impatient and was overtaking the down-hill truck, which was (as is proper) in
the right lane.
So, we see two enormous trucks heading straight for us, and also
towards the truck in front of us.
It is
immediately obvious to us that there is going to be a huge crash of
trucks.
Our imm
ediate
thought is:
“we have to get off this
road”.
I said as much to Craig, who was
already searching for an escape.
Amazingly, as we had gone around the corner, as we saw the two trucks
heading downhill towards us at some speed, we saw a graveled area: a parking
place or a graveled track, on the left side of the road.
Craig immediately pulled off the road on to the graveled area. The car was slowing down because we had been
in 3rd gear going uphill, but we had lost momentum as soon as we
left the bitumen, so now we were going much slower. Craig said later he had considered changing
down a gear, but determined he didn’t have the time to do so. So he put his foot down, and we increased our
distance from the road and the ever-closing trucks.
It appears later that the truck in front of us, also a 15 or
20 tonne vehicle, tried to do the same. The
result was that it was heading slightly to the left of the road, towards the
graveled area when the overtaking down-hill truck smashed into the right side
of the truck.
Craig and I are still sitting in a moving vehicle. The Beast is still slowly getting further
away from the road. Craig and I see the
two trucks crashing into each other – the downhill one smashing directly into
the side of the other. We see the debris
flying everywhere. We see dust
everywhere. We hear noise.
We see the downhill overtaking truck smashing into the side
of the uphill truck, and then forcing that truck off to the side of the road,
on to the graveled area. The force of
the crash of the two trucks has caused the truck which was in front of us to
tip on to its side. The force of the
smash and the speed of the down-hill truck causes it to continue to force the
other truck, which is on its side, forwards.
It’s the sort of scene I’ve only ever seen in a movie. And not one I thought I’d ever see in real
life.
By this stage the Beast has lost nearly all momentum and
we’ve slowed down and virtually stopped.
Craig and I see the trucks crashing towards us, and we both think that
we will be hit. Amazingly, we are
not. Two trucks, mashed into each other,
probably weighing up to 30 or 40 tonnes together, come crashing towards us, but
the Beast must have gone just far enough, because the fast-moving wreckage of
the trucks passes us by.
So we’re sitting there.
In shock. And we can’t see a
whole lot, because there is dust everywhere.
Craig springs into action and jumps out of the car and yells
at me to get the first aid kit. We have
a very comprehensive first aid kit, specifically kitted out for this purpose
(ie. road accidents). We don’t normally
become involved in post accident events, but the fact is that we were almost
part of this accident, so we feel more involved.
Craig runs towards the scene, where the two trucks are
smashed, crushed together. He sees a man
lying on the side of the road, with blood on his head, and starts talking to
him. It later appears he was the driver
of the up-hill truck. The truck which
was in front of us, also going uphill.
He appears to have jumped out of his cabin before the truck was
crushed. If he hadn’t, he would probably
be dead, as his side of the cabin is totally squashed. His partner crawled out of the passenger side
of the cabin after the crash and appeared to have only minor injuries.
I arrive with the first aid kit, and Craig grabs our only
pair of latex gloves, before heading towards the squashed cabin of the
down-hill over-taking truck. Other
vehicles have stopped by this time and there are men jumping out of their
vehicles (mostly other trucks) and are headed towards the other truck. There are two men in the cabin of that
vehicle, and it seems that they are not coming out of that cabin under their
own steam.
Several men, other drivers, other people at the scene, are
climbing on the truck’s smashed cabin and are using crowbars and other equipment
to try to get the two men out. As I
arrived with the first aid kit, I see a man throwing pots and pans out of the
crushed cabin – he’s throwing out anything he comes across on to the road, out
of his way, in his effort to get to the men in the truck's cabin.
The first man who is taken out of the crushed cabin is
brought to the side of the road. Craig
gets involved and immediately sees he has a broken leg, and gets the men to
move him to the shade. Craig uses
several cotton scarves to tie this man’s legs together, so that the broken leg
is at least placed correctly.
Craig and I see that the driver is still in the other
vehicle. The cabins of both trucks have
been pretty smashed up, crushed really.
We both think that if the driver and his mate had not jumped out of the
other vehicle, they might not be so lucky to stand there watching this
nightmare.
I’m standing on large concrete blocks which line the right
side of the road (the downhill lane).
I’m guarding our first aid kit, and have a couple of bottles of
water. One bottle goes to the two
drivers from the truck who jumped out.
They use our cotton wool and water to clear the blood from themselves.
In the meantime, as a result of the accident, at least half
the road, the up-lane, is blocked. The
smashed trucks are sprawled across the left lane of the road and the graveled
area. Some traffic is still coming down
the hill, but most are slowing down, some are stopping to help or watch the
scene. Some trucks barely slow down as
they drive past.
Eventually, after managing to hack through the crushed
cabin, the men get the driver out of the truck.
His body is limp. They bring him
to the side of the road where his co-driver is resting with his broken
leg. About 10-15 men stand around the
two men lying on the ground, and they all look at Craig. Craig checks the man’s pulse, and then turns
to me and gives me a hand signal indicating that the driver is dead. He tells the other men, most of whom do not
speak English – however, one man says to Craig:
“mort?” and Craig nods his head.
The other man signaled for Craig to check again, and again, but finally
had to accept that the driver was dead.
The co-driver, with the broken leg, asks Craig about his friend, and
Craig tells him his friend is dead. The
man with the broken leg starts to cry.
By now 20-25 minutes have passed since the initial
crash. There are a number of trucks
parked in both the uphill lane and the downhill lane. I think about 10 people have telephoned for the
police and/or for an ambulance, yet there is no sign of either.
The road is covered in glass, metal, wood, pots and pans,
light fittings, all sorts of scrap from the trucks. Diesel marks the road along the path of the
crash – ie. from where the down-hill over-taking truck crashed into, and forced
onto its side, the uphill truck. The
smell of diesel is very strong.
The Beast stands by itself, maybe 10-15 metres away from the
road, in the graveled area.
I’m pouring water over Craig’s arms because he has some
blood on his skin. When we go to the
Beast, Craig takes off his bloody gloves, and I pour more water over his hands
and arms. Then he washes his hands and
arms with Dettol, which I pour. Then
more water. Then a disinfectant gel.
We discuss whether to stay at the scene, or whether to
continue our journey. We decide to
continue.
We talk about what happened for half an hour or so, as we
drive through the mountain range. We
wonder if the remains of the trucks will be dragged to the side of the road and
left there. We see it frequently
alongside the road as we’re driving – a vehicular carcass evidencing a
crash. We wonder how many lives have
been destroyed by this crash. Whether
the dead driver had a family. Whether
the drivers were owners of the smashed trucks or whether they were
employees. Whether appropriate emergency
health-care will be available to the man whose leg is broken (a compound
fracture in two places of the tibia, so Craig tells me). We stop so Craig can have a can of iced
coffee. We drive as carefully as we can,
but we still cannot see what is happening around the next corner.
We decide we’re incredibly lucky that we escaped the
crash. We estimate the trucks came
crashing past the Beast with less than a metre to spare (if that much). It really was horrifically close. I don’t know if I will ever forget the sight
of those two smashed trucks coming at speed towards us.
:::
We continue our drive.
I’m just saying to Craig that we need a toilet stop, when we are stopped
by a police check-point. They speak to
us in broken English, but the gist is that they are trying to make the roads
safer for everyone. They send us on our
way.
Not much further, maybe 10 or so km, the Beast suddenly
slows down. Craig says that he’s losing
speed, and doesn’t know why. He manages
to get the Beast to the side of the road (fortunately a wide road, with a verge
big enough for the Beast).
We’re both highly stressed from previous events, and this
seems to be the final straw.
The car is not starting, even though it’s making all the
right noises. Not the battery, not the
starter motor, we don’t know what it is.
Craig looks under the bonnet, we put our heads together and decide it
seemed like the engine was just not getting enough fuel.
By this time it is 4.00 pm, and Craig gets a lift back to
the town with the police check-point to see about getting some help. I wait in the car. He is back within 40 minutes on the back of a
motor-cycle. The young man (looks like a
kid to me) is a mechanic, who promptly sticks his head under the bonnet.
Craig and I are concerned about what will happen that
afternoon and/or evening. We don’t drive
in the dark in India. Seriously, when
you see what is around during the day (including huge holes in the road), no
lighting, nutty drivers, all sorts of animals, you don’t want to drive in the
dark. So we always plan our days so that
we get to our destination in plenty of time.
Today that is obviously not happening.
Eventually the mechanic advises Craig that the diesel fuel
pump is not working. Great. Craig and I
think we need to get a Land Rover fuel pump to replace it. Of course that’s not how Indians think, and
the nearest Land Rover dealer is in Chennai anyway, so we wait for a mini truck
(really – but it’s a Tata, so it’s all in the family) who then tows us about
10-15 km back to the mechanic’s garage.
Poor Craig is totally stressed by now, as we are towed back in
increasing darkness, with only about 2 metres between the Beast and the mini
truck tow vehicle. That’s the first time
the Beast has “driven” in the dark in India.
Hopefully, we won’t have to repeat it.
:::
As I’m writing this, it’s just gone 9.00 pm. I’m sitting on the bed in a room in a hotel
(hallelujah!) which is situated almost directly next to the garage where the
Beast is. The hotel is cheap, but the
room has an overhead fan and an air-conditioner which currently work, but which
we’ve been warned will cease working if and when the electricity stops! Our bathroom has a squat toilet and a
tap. Under the tap is the ubiquitous
bucket and measuring cup. These appeared
in hotel bathrooms when we got to Turkey, and they’ve been in bathrooms ever
since. So, we have no shower, but when
it’s over 40 degrees (as it was today, and the last 5 hours of that without
air-conditioning), we don’t mind pouring measuring cups of water over
ourselves. At least we have a toilet!!!
It’s now gone 9.30 pm, and Craig’s just been in the room to
give me an update. He has been coming in
and going back out to the garage, where there are currently about 8 guys
working on the Beast. Yes, it’s dark out
there, but no-one sleeps when there’s work to be done!
The mechanics have stripped out the fuel pump and have
confirmed that it is dead. Apparently
dirty diesel and crap roads (causing frequent and continuous shaking) have
caused the slow (but final) death of our fuel pump. Craig says the filters in the pump and in the
fuel line itself are so filthy they are almost completely clogging the flow of
diesel. The young mechanic (who brought
Craig back to the car on his motor-cycle this afternoon) is going to ring the
Land Rover dealership in Hyderabad tomorrow morning. He and Craig already rang
the Land Rover dealership in Chennai to see about getting a replacement part,
and the service manager (whose mobile phone they rang) gave the number to call
tomorrow. If that brings no joy, then appropriate
bits and pieces will be air-freighted to us here wherever we are in this town
somewhere in south India from either Australia or England.
So, the earliest we will be back on the road is the day after
tomorrow, if the mechanic can get replacement bits and pieces from Hyderabad,
or we wait in this town (I don’t even know the name of it) until bits and
pieces are air freighted to us.
The joys of overlanding.
Plus (I’ll say it again) we should have put our steel wheels
with the off-road tyres on the Beast before we left NL. Perhaps that would have reduced the amount of
shaking and allowed our fuel pump to have lasted to Chennai.Then again, perhaps
not. There’s no point in second-guessing
what could have, would have, might have happened. It is what it is.
Oh well. At least we
didn’t get squashed like bugs by trucks today.
That makes it a good day in my book.
Postscript: it is now
Saturday 5th of April, 2014, and we are still stuck in the nameless
town. We’ve ordered a new fuel pump from
England, and it should be arriving before the middle of next week. No doubt we’ll be on the road soon
after. In the meantime, we’re “enjoying”
our 3x3m room, and our very basic “bathroom” (ie. squat toilet and bucket and
tap). Fortunately the air-conditioning
works most of the time, and we’ve found that chapattis are delicious!! We’ve got half the stuff out of the car by
now, and that’s provided us with coffee in the morning! Won’t be able to update the blog until we’re
out of this town – so hopefully around Thursday or Friday of next week.
