I dropped off some rolls of 120 last week at a local developers. Whilst there I asked about replenishing my stocks which had run totally dry, specifically Kodak Portra 400NC, which is what I was having developed. The guy serving me checked his system and said he could order it in but the price per roll was more than twice what I had been paying in Australia. I sent an email to the guy I normally got film from when in Australia and got a response today. In his words “400NC 120 has gone the way of the Dodo”.
Unfortunately Kodak have decided to discontinue this film, along with its stablemate 400VC, replacing them both with a single Portra 400. Bummer, though I’ve read that its closer to the NC than the VC, which I see as good news.
So here are a few from my very last rolls of Kodak Portra 400NC (RIP), from the Sunshine Coast to West Wales.
Slowly, slowly getting through photos from India.
When we flew into Kolkata we were met at the airport by our fellow rickshaw runner Billy, who then took us by taxi to the train station to make sure the tickets he had arranged were legit. After navigating the throngs of people flooding into the station we found our way to the appropriate desk on the 4th floor and got the ok on the tickets. That sorted, it seemed a good idea to go off in search of a cold beer and some food to kill some time before our train later in the evening. Here’s a few photos from those hours, wandering the streets of Kolkata and getting our first taste of India.
Well once again I failed to keep up with my blog throughout the trip, bummer.
Though to be fair when you are punching out 16 hour, 300km days driving an auto rickshaw that doesn’t seem to like you all that much, finding somewhere we could try and get a good nights sleep took swift preference over finding an internet cafe and trying to put into words what madness we had experienced on any given day of the 15 days we spent in our beloved Rikki-Tikki-Taxi (aka the P.T.S mobile).
In summary, the trip was….well…..unsummarisable (?). I don’t have a strong enough grasp of language nor a sufficiently poetic writing ability to do justice to this mystifying, enchanting and at times very frustrating place. There are plenty of books out there that do a great job of that so maybe go read one of them and then chuck in a few road blockade charges, valium and a dash of reckless driving in a less than road worthy mechanical wonder-beast and you will start to approach what we’ve experienced.
We finished the race on the night of the 25th in Jaisalmer, Rajasthan – a magical desert city and the perfect spot to spend a few days winding down, drinking icy cold beers in the pool. The official race end was the 26th so after a good nights rest we got up, savaged some breakfast on the rooftop restaurant at the hotel and then again hit the pool with beers before heading over to the local cricket field (dust oval) for the locals vs. rickshaw runners cricket match. I didn’t stay for the whole thing as we had to go pick up some of the other teams rickshaws on the other side of town, but apparently the locals smashed us.
After getting enough rickshaws back to the cricket match to create a sufficiently impressive and rowdy parade we hit the road one final time and blasted through the town, much to the bemusement of the locals.
Leaving ‘Rikki’ was hard. Real hard. We had come so far with her, through good times and bad. Through arid desert and flooded backstreets. She wasn’t perfect but she was ours and we loved her. And now that it is all over, those two short weeks, felt all too short.
After heading back to the hotel for yet more beers and pool time, everyone made their way up to the finish line party at a most impressive and fancy hotel, with overpriced and often warm beers ( expensive by local standards, they were actually still only $5 for a tally!).
Needless to say the night was great, filled with more good memories than you can shake an oily spark plug at at; bhangra raving, homoerotic pool riots (with a Phil Collins sing-a-long naturally), midnight runs on motorbikes down tiny backstreets to buy semi-legal fireworks. But best of all was catching up with everyone and getting filled in on their wonderful tales of the trials and tribulations of the run (two of my personal favourites included making friends with Indian mafia big wigs and the ensuing hilarity/life threatening fun and some rather hectic riots between clashing villagers at a checkpoint – both of these stories came from the same person, who was riding an inflatable sheep at the time, which had somehow managed to stay inflated the entire way from Gangtok, some 4000km away!)
The next couple of days were very relaxed, a bit of sightseeing here and there and of course a bit more beer and pool time. I had planned to stay on in India once the race was over but had no idea what I would do or where I would go. On the final stretch of the race, about 30km’s outside of Jaisalmer we ran into another team who had broken down. A group of 5 Israeli guys had stopped to help them. They were all riding Royal Enfields. Royal Enfield is a now Indian operated classic British motorcycle manufacturer that now solely produces bikes in India. I had seen one or two along the trip but they are heavily outnumbered by more modern Japanese models ridden by locals. But there is something very special about the Enfields and the idea of spending some time riding one through India was instantly appealing. I spoke with a couple of the Israeli guys about their bikes and found out that one of them had picked their’s up for Rs.17,500, or about $400. It was an older model and not in the best shape but they had been going on them for a good few weeks without any major incidences which was reassuring. I made the decision there and then that I would do what I could to get my hands on one.
One afternoon whilst sitting in the pool I noticed a guy getting on a beautiful Royal Enfield that was parked at the back of the hotel. I started talking to this guy about my plans to buy one and travel around. He turned out to be the hotel owner and suggested that I simply rent his from him then put it on a train back to him when I was done. He also told me that if I wanted to take it out for a spin at any point, I was more than welcome. So a couple of days later a few of us headed out into the desert surrounding Jaisalmer, me on the borrowed Enfield, the others on rented Hondas to find a good spot to watch the sunset.
It was like nothing I have ever experienced. I have heard many people rant and rave about the feeling of freedom and pure joy that comes from gunning it on a flat straight road through stunning countryside, so I won’t repeat their words. Let’s just say that everything that motorcycle nuts say is completely, utterly true. It’s incredible.
A couple of days after my first ride on the Enfield the other guys had to return home so I was left to my own devices in Jaisalmer. After finding another hotel and doing the standard tourist camel safari that Jaisalmer is known for I set about trying to work out the best way to get a bike. Where to buy it, how much to pay, which model, should I just rent….It has been quite a frustrating few days but I do feel like I am finally making progress and should be able to hit the road within a few days….hopefully. I’ve spoken to a few different people about the options of buying and renting and am now just trying to figure out where I’ll head once I’ve gotten a bike. I’m currently thinking South, through Mumbai, Goa, Kerala and anywhere in between that takes my fancy. One of the best things about having the bike will be the freedom to go where I please. Hopefully this will outweigh the troubles I face, which I’ve been told can be numerous when dealing with Royal Enfields, notorious for their sometimes inconsistent reliability.
Anyway I’ve now been working at this post on and off for way too long so I’ll leave it at that. Will do my best to update the blog when I can.