The change of scenery was greatly appreciated, especially as our
route followed the Ganges. During the day, we passed Haridwar, a
famous holy city for Hindu pilgrims. I still wasn’t 100% and tired
quickly, but I could handle fatigue and thought myself better off on
the bike than in a room.
Muzaffarnagar – Ghaziabad- 85 km (& 20 km by truck)
India was full of endless surprises. The main roads were
tremendously congested with vehicles, cars, motorbikes, bicycles,
buffalo carts and people. It was only a matter of time until I was
knocked off the bike. I’m not entirely sure what exactly happened,
but the next thing I knew, I looked up into the faces of a horde of
Indians ready to pour water over me to wake me up. Ernest, cycling
behind me at the time, was nowhere to be seen. I imagined he
thought, “I want nothing to do with this!” and took off. I must’ve
been concussed as I felt disoriented and experienced double vision.
Ernest possibly relented as he eventually returned (I couldn’t believe
he didn't stop!). I knew I couldn’t cycle as I couldn’t use my left arm.
Amidst the crowd, a passing motorist who spoke English stopped to
assist by calling the police. The police then hailed an empty truck to
take us to Ghaziabad.
I slowly regained focus, but the arm remained useless. Mercury
must’ve been in retrograde. I wasn’t only still unwell from the dengue
fever but also sported a perfect black eye, a bruised leg, a dislocated
shoulder, and a broken collarbone. That’s what I call a day when
nothing goes to plan.