Travelblog: Kashmir to Pushkar

A combination of too many years in London, a lack of proper responsibilities and an unhealthy admiration for Michael Palin have led Nick Claxton to spend a year travelling the globe. A terminally-disorganised 24-year-old taking on the world - solo. He will be sharing his experiences from India and Nepal, south-east Asia, New Zealand and South America. This month he is reporting from India and Nepal. Here is his fourth blog entry:


I opted to give the renowned Indian trains a try on my way south from Kashmir. The ticket into Rajasthan was around 1,700 rupees (£21.50), which was comparable to the flight cost and I was looking forward to seeing the countryside change as we chugged out of the mountains.

But Srinagar lacks a rail link - the closest major station being in Jammu some 300km away -and unfortunately there are some pretty significant mountains in between.

Negotiating the Himalayan foothills would add to the time but I figured it would be worth it to see more of northern India.

Arfat sorted me out a seat on a tourist jeep heading south for about 800 rupees (£10) and we set off early the next morning.

After making good time out of the city, we soon began to climb and between the twists and turns the views were spectacular as the road arced up into the mountains. And up even further. And then we hit the traffic.

Landlocked and without a rail link north of Jammu, most of Kashmir can only receive goods and send exports back to the rest of India via truck.

And these trucks have very few choices about which roads to take - meaning that when we rounded a blind corner halfway up a mountain we were faced with a line of heavy goods vehicles trailing off out of sight.

The scenery was fantastic as we negotiated the jam, although it seemed slightly surreal seeing all this traffic snaking up and around the mountains with a sheer drop down to the river far below.

But despite our driver impatiently jumping the queue as much as he could, our 300km drive took around eight hours with a few stops for drinks and lunch along the way.

I had no time to spare in Jammu before my train further south, so I headed straight for the station and managed to find the 18:15 to Ajmer after picking my way through the swarms of flies, bags, salesmen, beggars and passengers that teemed over the platform.

Having got on board, it took me another ten minutes to fight my way down to my allocated seat in air-conditioned second-class.
To be honest, third class had looked fine to me as I struggled through it with my rucksack but other travellers I had met in Delhi agreed with my guidebook and advised that the A/C would be worth it heading into Rajasthan.

I slept soundly most of the night, only woken now and again by the soup and chai sellers who roamed up and down the carriages.

I spent most of the morning staring out of the window at the passing desert - marvelling at the stark difference from the green mountains of the day before and laughing at the ridiculousness of camels.

We pulled into Ajmer at around ten and I avoided the swarm of rickshaw drivers to grab some food and find my way up to the Dargah Sharif - an Islamic pilgrimage site that Arfat had told me about.

Last year it hit the headlines after a terror attack killed two and injured 17 and so it was no surprise that I had to check in my camera and bags (20 rupees at the window around the corner) before heading into the crowds thronging around the temple complex.

Rose petals were strewn all over the ground and the Imam's voice over the speakers quietly intoned passages from the Qur'an.

I spent a peaceful hour counting corn with the kids, joining the crush of people offering petals at the main shrine and throwing a donation into one of the two huge cauldrons that are filled at festival time to feed the pilgrims coming from around the world.

Stepping out into the rush of the city, my travelling over the last few days caught up with me and I grabbed a bus (ten rupees) to take me to Pushkar a few kilometres up the road where I had decided to stay.

I struck up a conversation about cricket with two guys at the back, who reassured me that Pushkar was a place to relax. But they also promised me that India would come back from their disastrous first day against South Africa… which may have put their judgement in doubt.

As I bought water from the bus stand, I started chatting to Pappu who convinced me to go and check out his hostel. I think the magic words he used were "suitable for budget travellers", "roof garden" and "200 rupees a night" (£2.50).

As soon as I walked into the Athiti Guesthouse I loved the place - it seemed so relaxed and upstairs the view over the town with two pyramid-shaped mountains in the background was great.

I threw my bag onto the bed and grabbed a much-needed shower with the first hot water I'd had since London.

Then I settled among the cushions up on the roof to meet the travellers staying in the other seven rooms, eat some food and watch the sun set over the desert for the first time.