There had been hints the previous day that we would eat breakfast *after* we returned from the 3-hour rafting trip. I strongly objected. If I don’t eat within one or two hours of waking I get grumpy and light headed. Granted, I get not wanting a huge breakfast before being jostled on a raft, but I have to have something, even if leftover car munchies. Don’t get between me and my morning meal!
Luckily, the Major assuaged my concerns and convinced the staff to make us mini sandwiches before we set off. Not sure what was in them? Tiny cubed cucumbers? But, with the hot chai, it was perfect.
Crossing over the Ganges, a preview of the water we’d soon be rafting over
We drove down the twisty roads a bit until we came to a bridge that looked like it had once been meant for cars, but no longer for whatever reason (maybe that it was not quite flat.) So we crossed it on foot – with a guide from the camp – and piled into a truck on the other side, the 10 of us (the Major sat this one out) barely fitting. We then continued upstream on the other side of the river for a while, crossing a vehicle bridge to get back, then getting ourselves a raft at one of the many rafting booths set up.
(totally stole this map)
Our rafting trip had no rapids graded higher than a “3+”. We started at Butterfly on the map above and hit the remainder. Our camp was at Shivpuri, in the middle.
At our take off spot
We reached an elaborate camp along the river and got ourselves set up. It was efficient and confidence-inspiring; the equipment seemed to be in good condition and I geared up tight. Although I was nervous, I also had a smile plastered on my face so I was excited to get started.
Our group before the rafting
I liked our guide. He seemed competent, my main judging factor for a guide. After his intro, rowing demo and safety check, we got into the raft. We practiced rowing forward, stopping, forward again, back, and only once with different sides doing different directions. “Back” and “Relax” kind of sound the same when shouted… maybe that’s why he sometimes said, “Stop.” Though Relax has a nice ring to it.
I was impressed with the Major’s wife. In her 60s, unable to swim, but in love with the water (and married to someone who is not) she was very excited to come along. We sat her in the middle where she could hold on to the rope attached to the raft with both hands. (John advised her that, during the rapids, she should hold tight to the rope with her left hand, raise the right one up in the air and whoop.)
I remember the first and only other time I had been river rafting (in Colorado), I was terrified, sliding to the middle of the raft during the bumpiest parts. I was not nearly so nervous this time for some reason, though we had some large waves and good, big splashes. Lots of rafters were enjoying the same rapids – apparently, this is high season. We had rafts in front of us, rafts behind us, though managed not to bump into any (unless it was on purpose. We followed our guide’s every call, even as he directed us right into his buddy.)
At one point, we reached a calm spot and our guide said we could get out of the raft if we wanted. I climbed out into the water.
BRRR!!
I immediately asked to get pulled back in. The gray-haired Frenchman had to pull a few times, but he did it. The fellows were having a grand time, though.
At some point, we realized only the girls were left in the raft. Luckily, John taught me some basic pulling-people-up-into-the-raft techniques and the skinny Dutchman said I could try him first since he was the lightest. Amazingly, I managed to do it in one try.
We prepared for the upcoming rapids, all in our same positions on either side.
I soon understood how Roller Coaster got its name but it was the deceptively mild-sounding Golf Course where things got bad… for the raft in front of us. I had been thinking to myself, wondering if we were going to topple as the raft bent up and down through the water when I saw that the yellow raft in front of us upturned completely.
We saw at least two people appear, floating down the river. I kept wondering if someone was under the upturned raft, but I never found out. John was amazing, reacting immediately, even as I had not a clue what to do. As we got near, he pulled them closer with the backs of the oars, then pulled them up quickly into our raft, even in the fast water. Soon, we had both of them in the middle of our raft. They looked a little shaken up and the Japanese girl was kindly comforting them.
I don’t know how many people were on the raft, though there was some shouted conversation in Hindi between other raft guides and our guide, perhaps determining who had whom. Eventually, we pulled off to the side and the two transferred to a different raft. Then we continued on.
We rafted by some people jumping into the water from a high rock. Shortly after that, we pulled up on the shore where the guide said we could go jump off the rock, too, if we wanted.
Jump!
I hiked up the busy shore, full of other rafters and people selling noodles and beverages, until I came upon the rock people were jumping off of. The other two Americans had already jumped a couple times each. It was actually a wet climb to get up to the top of the rock and I’m surprised I made it without slipping. There were a whole group of people on top of the rock. I have no idea what they were doing. We speculated later that they were working themselves up to jumping. (I had done that once at a water park – freaked out at the top and waited for other people to go by until I found my nerve.) The nice dudes welcomed me up, though. I peeked off the edge and the water was indeed further down than I had expected. Well, there’s nothing for it.
One, two, three JUMP!
I think my initial “whoo!” may have turned into an actual “whoa!” along the way, then I was suddenly shooting down into the very chilly water. The life jacket propelled me back to the top and I swam for shore. Whew! Ganges Dip Part Two. This time, with adrenaline.
Street food… along the river
When we walked back, everyone was eating hot noodles. Now that I had jumped, I accepted the offer and was soon served instant – but delicious – noodles on a plate so hot that they also gave me a piece of cardboard under the plate to hold it with as well as a plastic fork.
It was only as I was nearly finished that I realized where they washed the dishes. In the river.
The noodles – which we call top ramen back home – are called maggi here, like the woman’s name. So if you ever see a sign for Maggi, it means ramen (not necessarily instant.) Though this was the “2 minute” variety and we then referred to the place as “Maggi Point.”
I had been looking forward to the “floating alongside temples” like the advertisement suggested, however, our tour ended before we reached Rishikesh proper. (I actually thought our guide was joking at first when he said it was finished, but I guess it means it was a good experience if all I wanted to do was keep rafting!) We got off at the beach and climbed up the hill to the road where the car was waiting. The major’s wife described the trip to her husband as we drove back up and pointed to various spots along the river.
There was only one shower in the camp and I figured I’d want to properly shower later so I settled for brushing out my hair (which took a while and required a lot of space) and changing into dry clothes. I realized I had ripped the seams in my blue pants while rafting, which I was a little bummed about, but I guess I can always get more pants (and I had brought plenty of changes of clothes with me.)
We were set to hike a mile or so up to a waterfall, but when I finished changing clothes and out of my wet sandals into dry sneakers (yep, two pairs of shoes for an overnight trip), it had turned into another drive.
Holy Swimming Hole
I was asked if I was interested in swimming. As it was the first time I had been dry all day, I declined, but enjoyed the playful splashing of the nearly-nude Indian guys.
Also, at the waterfall:
Monkeys!
I managed to convince the Major to let the guide we brought lead us back to the camp on foot (at least those of us who wanted to). It was an enjoyable walk through the valley, though the sun came out which made it quite hot. Us blondes picked up a nice sunburn. It was the only time I didn’t bring the hat I brought (that I had bought specifically for this trip.)
Guided into the valley
The valley looked to be full of mini farms and had narrow irrigation canals running through it that also doubled as sidewalks (we even stepped aside for some locals). Like a scene from an old movie, I saw a woman leading her cows with taps of her stick back to the animal shelter attached to the house made of stacked stones.
“Indian” Corn
And that was the last excursion of the trip. We were served an identical lunch to the previous day (which was perfectly fine with me as it was fresh and quite tasty) and hung around the camp a bit.
The drive back was long. First, we squeezed three extra people in the car during the twisty road back to Rishikesh, then we spread out a bit, with one in the front, two in the back seat and two in the way back. I offered to sit in the way back as I have short legs, but no seat stays comfortable when six hours stretches into seven stretches into eight when we hit weekend traffic.
Notably, though, after we dropped off one of our party at the Haridwar railway station, it was the first time there were no Hindi speakers in the car to talk to the driver. Luckily, the driver understood enough English to pull off at our request to the same food court for dinner. This time, we opted for Haldiram’s. I had the chole batura (which they are known for) and it was decent enough. We ate so fast, the driver was not there when we returned and I had to text the Major and ask him to call. I felt kind of bad, but I think we all just wanted to get going.
I was first to get dropped off. Even then, we were nearly at midnight. We had left the camp at 2:30pm, so yep, 9+ hours. 150 miles should not take that long. Indeed, Google maps puts the drive at under 5 hours. Whatever the equivalent is of the Indian transportation bureau really needs to improve this highway.
(You might have noticed that a lot of these photographs did not have large versions. That is because many were borrowed from other folk on the trip who posted their pics to our Road Trip site (behind a login) which has a size limit. I also tend to not show full-sized photos of people besides me. No blackmail here.)
As a parting picture, I wanted to show this car I saw everywhere. (The one on the right.) The first time I saw it, I was like, how nostalgic! Then I saw two dozen of this same car pass. Someone explained that one of the original car companies in India (called Hindustan Motors or something) made that model of car… and hadn’t changed it in fifty or so years!
Also. Monkey!