My brain hurts!

Never in my days of travelling have I had to organise so thoroughly before going away. This logistics of preparation for this next overland trip are staggering. Which in itself would be off putting. Combined with my extremely shifty mood, a pervading lethargy and a constant stream of problems it is becoming a nightmare. And I don't want to sit down and rant onto my blog, which I can be slightly prone to doing. Am I doing everything wrong? Do I have mug stamped across my forehead? Am I a victim waiting for shit to happen to me? I never would have answered any of these questions with a resounding yes. Now I'm not so sure! It is with apprehension that my departure draws ever nearer. It isn't overwhelming, but I've had my moments; being unable to lift the bike when it fell over knocked my confidence somewhat. The occasion also initiated an evening of wondering just what the hell I thought I was doing, only doom and gloom lay in undertaking this forthcoming journey. If I can't even lift my bike off a garage forecourt what hope do I have of riding across Mongolia, round Tibet. I'm under no illusions here, I'm not superhuman, my reserves are low, I can't see how the hell I can cope with anything going wrong.

But I will cope, it's what I do! It isn't as if I could pick up the bloody bike when I dropped it on numerous occasions when riding the Americas. I've started pre-thinking the problems, so I have at least a plan A. I've dumped off the gorgeous Aluminium panniers and top box, I'm going lightweight. Between putting the finishing touches to the book, organising visas and preparing the bike, I'm pretty busy most the time. There's been a gap of a week between the first paragraph and this one, a big difference in my outlook. Things have been put more into perspective, I'd be more disappointed if I don't even try than if I screw up making the effort. Numerous small faults have plagued the bike, it's been stripped naked countless times. Annoying in ways, but invoked a calm pleasure in systematically working out the problems. It's reassuring that I can work so easily on the beast, I know the damned thing inside and out, literally. Alternative bikes have been checked out on ebay, researching specs on different models, seeing what modifications I'd need to do for the trip. None will give me better than what I've got, all are taller, heavier, more complicated. More importantly, if it all goes wrong at any stage, I can kick this one in the ditch and walk away from it.

Can I say I'm on top of everything? No, not really! There is so much to do, so little time to do it, but at least I'm rising to the occasion now. At last the final chapter of the book has been finished, now to proofread it. This has already been done to a certain extent as I originally wrote it, some chapters have been extensively rewritten. Now for the search to get it published, which I'd be more than pleased if some well wisher out there suddenly wrote offering to publish it for me. Then again, since when has life been a fairy tale, Brothers Grimm more like it. Having only just allowed myself to consider the last chapter finished, it's slowly developing into relief, though not jubilation yet. Long lists of possible publishers blur before my eyes, but one by one they are either dismissed or earmarked for reference. I should put the pressure on and make first contact, but I still have to proofread it all, write a quick epilogue (haha) and then a synopsis. There again, I could just pay my dues and self publish. Which I'm loath to do, I want my book published because it's work putting into print. I believe it's worth publishing, on its own merit, I believe it's well written and worth reading. I just want that chance to prove it!

It's strange, for coming on four years I've been writing this blog. It started on such a phenomenal high, held so much promise, yet plummeted to the deepest depths. I guess that was never the real story, it was supposed to be, I so wish it had been. The events and changes during that time are still hard to comprehend in one single train of thought. In my own head finishing my book is the conclusion of those events, the next chapter of my life begins when I set off again, it's another adventure, another story, another life. Though for me it doesn't just change like that, I still continue each day from where I left off the previous night. Whether I write at this web address or another, there is no line of embarkation. I hope there is a sense of a fresh start, but I'm not banking on it. Of course I don't want to suddenly go decimal on you all, so I'd better start thinking of a new blog site and get the address sorted.

Back to basics!

Phew, returning home seems to have happened with very little palaver. Leaving Ohm Beach was done without any safety margin as far as time was concerned, I caught a mid-day train to get to Goa, a motorcycle Taxi to the Airport, then had a seven hour wait. Another wait at Delhi airport turned out to be for 15 hrs, and away we went, only three hours late. Aren't I ever glad I had warm clothes handy, two thermal layers and a Rab jacket, they done the job. For a change, I also had a lift arranged from the airport, life doesn't get much easier. Even the absence of my luggage from the plane failed to perturb me, I had my hand luggage i.e. the Laptop and camera equipment. What else is there to worry about, my bike and bike gear waited at Phil's house, my first port of call. So how was it arriving back in North Wales? Almost like coming back home. I spent three nights dossing on couches, so I could relax with friends and drink without driving. The main advantage to arriving home this time was actually having a place I could treat as home, a cottage put at my disposal by a very generous friend, Jason. I'm glad he feels happy having me occupy his otherwise empty cottage. Call it Kama, but after numerous occasions when I've given over the use of my house, whilst travelling for a few months, it's nice for the shoe to be on the other foot. I think people should reap what they sow! (Photo: Lunar Landscape of Penrhyn Quarry - Bethesda, North Wales)

Now life takes on a new meaning, another period of organisation, four months of being in the UK. My maps have just arrived so I can begin to chart possible routes through to China. Decisions, decisions, luckily none have to be made as to the actual route yet. It's all a matter of timing though. For Russia I must declare the actual dates of entry and exit, each time I pass through, which has to be at least twice. China also needs a specific date for entry due to the extensive organising of permits, for travel and the bike. The formalities are horrendous for both these places, but it's only really China that charges a sizeable portion of third world debt to drive your own vehicle through. A different permit for every province I pass through must be obtained, my bike has to get registered for use in China, and I'll need a Chinese driving license. I'm giving myself three months to make it to the Chinese border. That gives me more than enough time to get there and and enjoy the process of doing so. Somewhere around Central Asia/Mongolia I'll take some time off the bike and get acquainted with another horse. Let's say there is no shortage of horses or amazing countryside in that part of the world. I'm not used to having to time the crossing of continents though, I'm worried it will get a bit rushed. (Photo: Shadow from airport security's observation window - Dabolim Airport, Goa, India)

There is so much to organise, it's a bit worrying, as soon as I settle in Wales again I get lethargic. Though there is so much to sort out, the motivation to do so is hard to find, I feel like curling up in a corner, hiding away from the world. It saps my energy, leaves me despondent. And this, I believe is why I've been hopping on planes so frequently, jetting off to the first place to grab my attention. I know it isn't quite as easy as that, I have maintained a desire to finish my book before setting off on another adventure. The effort to write at home seems too much for me, even now when there is so little left to do. I used to be such a dynamic person, now I feel everything is a huge effort, there isn't enough joy left in life. And folks, if you lead the life I have been recently, and still feel empty, something is wrong. I'm not complaining, nor feeling sorry for myself, this is my life, the one I've chosen to pursue. I didn't chose the circumstances under which it reached this point, but I still have options, I make my own choices as to the direction I now take. A fine line is still trodden though, between an emotionally devoid contentment, and upwellings of grief. Don't listen to those who assure you that you'll get over losing a loved one, if you do I doubt the depth of that love. But as I keep reminding myself, life goes on, which is also my own choice. (Photo: Gribbit - Namaste Guesthouse, Ohm Beach, Karnataka)

But sort stuff out I must, all my travel equipment, which hasn't seen the light of day since I got back from the Americas trip. My humongous bags of clothes, quietly sitting in my mum's attic, need redistributing. Boxes packed and stored in 2007 need routing out and clearing. But most importantly, my bike needs preparing, to make it the ultimate machine it can become, my ideal tour bike. Plenty enough to keep me busy, and I am getting on with it, honestly! There are drawbacks though, delving my hand into a side pocket of a bag, only to dig out something of Cai's, a personal item, stashed in his travel bag when we left for the States, all that time ago. That hit me hard, I hadn't felt so emotional for some time, but it passed, probably quicker than I'd have thought feasible. So time does make a difference, but it never goes away, the pain is always there, more gentle, more forgiving, but always waiting in the shadows. Realising this is important, it let's me accept it as a part of my present life, it isn't a hindrance. Nowadays, I smile at the memories of Cai more often than I cry! (Photo: Sunset over Newborough marsh - Ynys Mon, North Wales)

My head spins round in circles, trying to make sense of life, trying to keep my head above the clouds. North Wales drains me of motivation, saps me of emotional strength. But what am I whinging for? If my only words to write are of complaint, why do I bother? If my photos on here become merely random pictures to fulfil, am I missing the point? If I don't do anything worth writing about, then why bother. This Blog comes precariously close to its final days, due to finish with the completion of my book. I just need a good kick up the arse to keep me on track, keep my head engaged.

Happy New Year

What a mad New Years eve, I thought it had been busy before, jeezuz! Thousands of Indian males, and I literally mean thousands, turned up to get pissed and let their hair down. There was a virtual complete absence of Indian females, not even the modern city types accompanied their male friends. So weird, earlier the beach was crowded, but not seriously, there were plenty of families and couples. Come nightfall it was a distinctly male domain, and that’s when the booze came out. During the day there had been a beach wide alcohol ban, nothing for sale anywhere, strict instructions of the police.With the coming of darkness the all clear went up and the booze started to flow. I won’t say it was ugly, but there were enough surly looking guys scowling at tourists, in general they only wanted to shout happy new year in your ear and either hug you or shake your hand. I chatted to a few, individually people are fine, but you put them in a mob and they overreact a bit. Not in aggressive displays of manhood, like at home, more like drunken schoolboys, screeching in over enthusiastic delight at the most trivial things. Fires littered the whole beach, as did the bodies, without a light falling over people was unavoidable. Keep to the surf line and you were constantly accosted by guys throwing themselves around you, slurring their greetings at full pitch, yes, definitely drunken school boys.

I didn’t emerge myself until nearly mid-day, bleary eyed and hung over. Breakfast and a swim were in order, luckily the beach had been largely cleared of bodies, unluckily not of the debris left behind. A continuous arc of litter swept round the bay at the high water mark. Plastic bottles were strewn everywhere and broken bottles lay by outcrops of rock, I was outraged, how could people do this to their own natural heritage? Since arriving it’s been kept clear, few bits of litter got left on the beach, invariably what turned up was after a weekend, busy with Indian tourists. In many ways the Indian culture is wavering, coming under pressure from western wealth and freedoms. Consumerism here may have its own particular Indian flavour to it, but it’s still the same old game. Don’t give a shit about anything except your own, material pleasures, where happiness is measured in retail activity. Environment, animals, other people, they don’t matter, as long as you’re having fun. I got very anti Indian tourist on New Years day, my disgust for them made me raise serious questions whether there might be a tinge of racism in there. But no, I detest any cretin who throws their waste all over the place, whatever race, colour or creed.

Decisions have been made, a goal is in sight, and my planning can commence. South America has been so strong a temptation, and to be perfectly honest, still is. But it’s across the Ukraine, Russia, Mongolia, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgystan and China, into Laos. My route through China will take me through Tibet and into Lhasa, I’m lead to believe it includes some of the most remote roads in China, sounds brilliant eh? There will be a bit of a ziz-zag route to fit them all in, but I think I can manage. Somewhere along the way, I want to do more on horse back, where and when I haven’t a clue. Riding horses long distance would be an amazing way to complete a trip, but I think the understanding and experience required to care for the animal would be beyond me. So an independent, solitary trip by horseback isn’t in the offing yet, I need more time, more experience with horses. So South America has been ruled out, it feels kind of stupid to have shipped my bike back home only to ship it there again, so that can be plan B. As to timing; there are plenty of high altitude passes so I don’t expect to cross Central Asia until late June early July, into China towards the end of August. The next thing to determine is whether my limbs can actually bear the strain of riding major amounts of miles, so a few rides around the UK are in order.

Festive fallout!

As the years roll by, wherever we are, our world changes. Our immediate world, not the world at large! Will the change be of benefit or to the detriment of us all, will it help or will it hinder. What effect will we have upon the environs we exist in? Many believe the knack is to pass through the world without upsetting the balance, others are intent on leaving their mark, something to be remembered by. Whether individuals roam the face of our planet or exist in the tiniest corner, we all have an effect. Few are stirred to greatness, yet most wish to be remembered. The ends do not justify the means, take John Lennon’s assassin for example, a warped individual who’s sole aim seems to be the fame his murderous act earned him. I like to think I leave a ripple in my wake, enough to maybe lift people’s heads above the surface, but nothing to cause alarm. When amongst crowds I prefer to go unnoticed altogether. (Photo: Huge moth - Namaste guesthouse, Ohm Beach, Karnataka)

Rajastan may receive more tourists per annum than other Indian states, but over the festive season it’s southern states which get the huge influxes. Miles of glorious sandy beaches, most with no infrastructure at all, no hotels no cafes, no shops, and few chances to reach them, if there’s any access at all. The places are often seen across enormous bays, where there is nothing marked on the map, not even a village. Ask a local what’s there and the answer is simple, nothing! Maybe the occasional fishing family have a hut somewhere, a bamboo shelter, probably not accessible by road. I get the feeling those are the real havens to chill out on, while away a few days without being disturbed by a constant stream of tourists, whether Indian or foreign. And those are the places you’ll never reach, unless you’re independent transport wise. Without, you’re stuck with utilising the same places everyone else has access to, just one of the hoards.(Photo: White breasted kingfisher - Namaste Guesthouse, Ohm beach, Karnataka)

Ohm beach is supposed to be a quiet getaway, well on the tourist trail but laid back and low key. Unfortunately there is also a road in from Gokarna, so the city folk come in their droves. Young, modern Indians, come to drink and make merry, strut their stuff, cigarettes and beer in hand.A guesthouse owner sits smiling, watching two young Indian women smoking and drinking. He wasn’t exactly disapproving, but made the point that you wouldn’t see local girls/women smoking or drinking, in public or private. Someone claimed to have actually seen Mumbai girls on the beaches of Goa in bikinis, whatever next, I’m all for this cultural equality. So ironically, the next day, as I lay basking in the sun, hey presto I saw my first group of Indian women in bikinis. It was a pleasant surprise to see a mixed group of western guys and Indian girls arrive and settle next to me, you don’t really such groups, though I’ve never hung out in the big cities. India is changing very fast, and the change is coming from within. No longer is it the foreign tourist who flaunts what the locals can’t have, it’s their own countrymen, which makes it more accessible, more desirable. There appears no end of affluent visitors from Mumbai and Mangalore, youngsters flashing their cash, They’re not sleeping in shitty little huts with toilets shared between twenty, if they do stay it’s an a/c room, as many as they can fit in. Seeing that show of affluence from fellow Indians has to bring it closer to home. Let’s be honest, a good proportion of the beach crowd around Goa, and many other Indian beach resorts, have got bugger all worth having anyway. How could young local guys envy that, most of them live in better conditions than the tourist beach huts? (Photo: It's a long tale - Namaste guesthouse, Ohm beach, Karnataka)

(Photo: Space race - Ohm beach, Karnataka)


So it’s much busier than I imagined here over Christmas and New Year, I thought I was going to find a very quiet place, perhaps I’m too spoilt, had too many exotic paradises. I’d have thought I could have found a place more suitable to relax and write, India is so huge that if you want to move on it takes days to get anywhere else. And that can be very draining as well. As in any situation, you should try and make the most of it. I’m content with being here, my book is grinding inexorably on, the creative juices aren’t at their best, but are getting the job done. I’m very reluctant to rush it, or is that lethargy? The days are being counted and I know who much is left to write, when I sit down bits dribble out. I know what I want to say, but can’t find the exact words, I spend as much time pacing that typing. But it is coming, and I’m still committed to finishing it competently, I don’t want to screw up so much effort with a sloppy finale. With ten days left before turning home, I’d better get my finger out. (Photo: Romance in paradise - Ohm beach, Karnataka)

Eclipsing the way forward

I’d love to begin by wishing everyone a very merry Christmas, I’d also love to extend my heartfelt happiness to you all at this special time of year. The trouble is I don’t have that happiness to extend. Don’t get me wrong, I am not in the depths of depression, but I am keeping the hell away from merry makers and their party antics, I do not feel like partying. It’s solace I seek at this time of year, it may well be found in the bottle, it may well be found in other intoxicants, but it is of course at festive times we miss our loved ones the most. And boy do I miss Cai. But hey, let’s not dwell on sadness and loss; let’s appreciate what we do have in life. After all, life goes on! (Photo: Checking for supplies - Kudlee Beach, Karnataka)

At present Ohm beach is undergoing a fairly fast turnover of tourists, some are rushing off for Christmas, others are arriving to settle in before. Not that it changes anything, some newfound friends go and other potential friends arrive. Perhaps I should put in more effort, be more sociable, to be honest I can’t really be bothered. Most of what’s going through my head is writing and next year’s forthcoming journey, and I’m getting bored of extolling my travelling adventure past and present. Of the past, they are all overshadowed by losing Cai, and the future, who knows what the future holds? None of us can know, the only certainty is that one day we die. It's up to us to make something of our time here. Each of us is responsible for the life we lead, for the deeds we do. Wouldn't it be nice if we all made them good deeds? (Photo: When the times are hard - Kudlee beach, Karnataka)

Weekends are busiest, with groups of Indians travelling from all over Karnataka to enjoy the beach here. How they enjoy it is a different matter! Sunday I caught a low-life with his hand in my rucksack, rooting around to try and find something to steal. I erupted, pushing and kicking him away, ever since I’ve regretted not beating the crap out of him. Maybe this has induced a melancholic mood, or should I say more of one. It made me so angry, still does whenever I dwell on it, which it shouldn’t, I know there are such scum in the world, I shouldn’t let them spoil my demeanour. I reported the incident to a police officer, but wouldn’t point out the actual culprit because I refused to go to the local town, Gokarna, and write a report. (Photo: Gokarna beach, Karnataka)


Anyway folks, Adieu. The time has come for me to sign off, please don’t send soppy Christmas wishes or your repeated condolences over Cai. The reason I ensure I’m away for Christmas is to escape all that, to deal with my head and heart myself. As nice as the sentiments are they hit hard and deep! Take care y’all! (Photo: Looks like we got ourselves a convoy - Kudlee beach, Karnataka)

Ohhhhm!

Beach life isn’t only for the foreign invaders, there is a lot of Indian tourism, a new wave of affluence has swept India and domestic tourism is rife. One thing is certain though, they don’t attempt to stay in the places of cheap squalor that attract western beach bums. You don’t find them staying in palm frond huts without toilet, shower or even electric. They must look at the conditions we pay money to stay in and feel nothing but disgust, even more so than we look at the dirt and filth around India. To be honest the conditions of man tourist huts is no better than the squatter camps, made barely more acceptable by the presence of communal toilets. Blocked and splattered with shit they may be, but at least they are subjected to some form of daily cleansing, probably more frequent than the tourists themselves. From an Indian eye though, people are paying to live in squalor on the beach, people how can afford much more; in their eyes at least. Groups of screeching Indians, crowding the surf line, are a common sight. Their innocent delight in the simple pleasures is touching; for once it’s the western eyes, staring in amazement, at the unexplainable antics of the local tourists. (Photo: Dogging, Indian style - Ohm Beach, Karnataka)

Nor are the pleasures of the beach restricted to the human species! Dogs, cats and cows all vie for the attentions of the visitors. Most cafes have their resident dogs, most bitches care for their most recent litter, heavy teats still providing for their brood. Puppies have an easy life, which is just as well, many of them will not make it into adulthood. Once the tourists leave and monsoon arrives their food supply dries up, I imagine it to be a hard life surviving on a desolate coastline, devoid of the countless scraps discarded by the casual tourist trade. But while the tourists swarm the beaches they live a life of relative luxury, rich pickings for all. From an early age they learn the benefits of being appreciated by humans, petted, pampered, adored and fed tidbits almost from birth, none are the slightest bit knarly. As adults they’ve lost their charm, though remain friendly, and become more peaceful and polite. Together they run up and down the beach, chasing each other, play fighting, frolicking in the surf. In the heat of the day they can be found laying in the surf, cooling down, delousing. It’s not unusual to see a dog run out into the crashing waves only to be engulfed in the foaming surf. Cats are like the local kids, hassle you for a pittance, but only briefly, it doesn’t take long for them to realise they’re wasting their time. Give them anything, just once, and they’ll never leave you alone. The presence of cows is nothing unusual either, they are after all everywhere in India. Not having spent time in the cities I can’t vouch for the welfare of urban cattle, I’ve been lead to believe they suffer badly, emaciated and disease ridden they wander the streets, rooting through plastic waste for the chance of the tiniest morsal of vegetable matter. My experience in rural areas has consisted of well-nourished animals, respected and cared for, with frequent vegetable matter presented to them. On Ohm beach a dwarf form of oxen are in residence, though a distinct lack of them during the hot mid-day sun credits them with more sense than the average westerner. Once the heat of the day drops, on they come, in groups, traipsing down the shoreline in search of food. They hustle tourists for it, if they smell fresh fruit they will blatantly bully it from you. Of course, often enough they are encouraged, mango skins and coconut offered as a form of amusement, only when they start sifting through your belongings, rummaging into your personal possessions, do people realize their mistake, too late. (Photos: 1] Sunset over Ohm bay; 2] Gribbit - Ohm Beach, Karnataka)

A walk across the headland to the next beach turned into a fortuitous balls-up. Not having planned to walk the whole way, I had no water and no money on me. Maybe a bit shortsighted of me, but I only went to see where the track could be found, I guess I got a bit carried away and 40 mins later arrived at Half-moon Beach, hot, hungry and dehydrated. Knowing my need for water was my first rational thought, with none available my second was to turn around and head for the facilities of my own hotel. I needed to take it easy and stay out the sun where possible, so the walk back was leisurely, up through a deep narrow stream bed, along the cliff tops and a down a rough, rocky trail. After the strenuous climb, I meandered along the cliffs, appreciating the rocky bluffs below me. Right on cue, in the hidden bay below, a pod of dolphins surfaced, half a dozen or more, lazily cruising within the confines of the bay. However hungry and tired I was, I hung around, mesmerized, all thoughts of food and water far away. A passing boat headed towards them and off the went, reappearing five minutes later, casually heading off in the opposite direction. It made my day, even falling and smacking my knee failed to detract from the experience. It does mean I have to stay out the water for a while, give the wound time to heal, they have a tendency to fester in the sea water here. I don’t mind waiting though; it gives me time to get into the flow of writing. Not that I’m grammatically challenged, I’m sat writing every day. It may be slow, but it’s sure! Do I even detect a reluctance to finish, probably, the end is in sight, and it’s been a very positive experience cataloguing the most profound incident of my life. Of course I want to do my utmost to preserve that experience, hey, I want the world to know! Wake up folks, nasty shit happens, you’d better make the most of life while you can. Treasure your loved ones, show them how precious they are, ensure the understand, it could be the last chance you have to do so. (Photos: My luxury bachelor pad - Nameste guesthouse, Ohm Beach, Karnataka)

And folks, if the regularity of blogs astonishes you, don't hold your breath, Christmas is approaching fast and I'm likely to go off-line.

Ohm Beach!

Ohm Beach, Karnataka, squeezed between Goa and Kerala, an alternative to the busy beaches of both the latter mentioned. It is gorgeous, but not what I‘d call a quiet, ideal paradise. There’s a dozen places offering rooms, most are no more than huts made of palm fronds, slotted in one against the other, with shared bathrooms, no privacy and no security. There is certainly no electricity in the huts and having the space to type and concentrate is just not going to happen. So I’ve taken a room in the most touristic place here, Nameste Guesthouse! Prices are top of the range for this beach, but the rooms are without doubt the most modern and comfortable. In many ways I would prefer a basic hut, but they just don’t come with bathroom and electricity. Namaste’s restaurant leads onto the beach but all the rooms are tucked away out back, they are a bit crammed in, the once secluded gardens have succumbed to the greed of the owners desire to fit in as many rooms in as possible. It’s easy to distinguish the older, original rooms with the new units squeezed in between. It is quiet though, which suites me fine, especially now they’ve given me a room right at the top, a detached building overlooking the rest. They swapped my room when I explained I needed more space and seclusion to write, It’s the same price, 700 rupees, which is just under £10. (Photo: North end of Ohm Beach - Karnataka, India)

Named after the double crescent shaped beach, it resembles the Ohm symbol, having a rocky promontory splitting the two halves. Further round the coast, you must walk over a headland, are two more beaches, even more basic and cut off. Paradise beach is the furthest and seems to be filling fast, it sounds just the place for almost total seclusion. Over an hour’s walk away it’s a rough trail to get there and few facilities once there. No power, very basic accommodation and limited choice of food. If it weren’t for the desire to write it would make an ideal getaway, but it’s seclusion is a major attraction here, many folks are hunting for the most undisturbed beaches. Unfortunately the effect has meant a quiet secluded beach that is more crowded than the main one at Ohm, the only advantage is the police don’t go there, so parties can continue all night. With Christmas closing in huts are in short supply, with Goa being almost closed down for parties the word is out that Paradise beach is the place for festive parties; I think I’m better off on Ohm beach. Having walked the length of the beach I’m now fully aware of what’s on offer, only one other seems to have rooms with attached bathroom, Jungle café. It isn’t on the beach itself, which does give more seclusion, but it is also the main drug supply along the beach. It is used for those getting off the beach for a quiet smoke, or to score. They stick the music on when customers drift in, at other times there is a tendency for them to leave the TV crackling most the day. At first glance it’s promising, sitting and taking in the vibe I have severe doubts. I won’t consider packing up and moving along the beach unless I’m sure it will be worth it, one thing is for sure, the second crescent of the beach is where the long termers tend to stay, it’s also the busier half. This is where the fires are lit on the beach every night, where the impromptu parties occur. It’s also chock full with Israelis, hoards of them, full of life, full of themselves. (Photos: 1] South end of Ohm Beach; 2] No, it's not Cowes - Ohm Beach, Karnataka, India)

Generally the Israelis are to be found in groups, if they didn’t already have an attitude of us against the rest of the world group mentality will encourage it. People naturally form into groups of similar customs, language or habits. Let’s face it, if travelling alone, most people will find themselves socializing with those who can speak their own language, or one they are proficient at, and then group mentality ensues. It doesn’t matter what nation they’re from, in a group they are always louder, more adventurous, more sure of themselves. There are a lot of Israelis and Russians in India, they both have a bad reputation, for travelling in packs and being arrogant. They aren’t the only ones, though each have a strong penchant for sticking to their own kind; maybe more so than many other nationalities. (Photo: Jumped over the moon - Ohm Beach, Karnataka, India)

Wherever I go a few days of relaxing and settling in mark my arrival, once chilled out I try and establish a routine to create the ideal circumstances to write in. Well, I’ve got that at Ohm beach, quite quickly, and whilst the writing is slow, it is now my primary concern. For sure I scored some Charys without little delay, of course I got stoned for the first few days. Indian beach life is a magnet for the worlds potheads, it’s what the social scene here is all about. But now I withdraw and make maximum use of my hotel hideaway. Here I can remain anonymous, sit at a table alone and the chances are people won’t interrupt me, certainly not if I’m sat typing. Though it’s seldom that I sit and type in public, only to write my journal or blog. It works well, I don’t get in the habit of wasting time. If I want a break I move along the beach and find people to mingle with. By reading my research material over breakfast it prepares me for the day’s writing, gets the creativity warmed up before other distractions waylay me. I keep myself pretty much to myself, reluctant to open myself up to the vagaries of other peoples shenanigans. I actually like sitting back and watching the world go by, without exerting any personal influence on the proceedings. (Photo: Getting in the groove - Ohm Beach, Karnataka, India)