And they're off!

The day begins with a safety briefing on what to expect when riding in India, and how to use the most essential part of the motorbike, the horn; without which the bike is unroadworthy. In fact it's the first thing to check when the ignition is switched on, if that doesn't work don't attempt to start the bike. No lights, no problem; tyres bald, no problem; only one brake, no problem; no horn? Unthinkable! It's the only place I've seen adverts for cars or motorbikes where the horn is actually listed as a selling point.

We're informed about the 'rules' of the road. My Pa always says: might is right, and this is the key principle on the roads. If a bus is overtaking a car (perhaps whilst it is itself overtaking a bicycle) going uphill on your side of the road it is up to you to get out of the way. If fact don't even think about trying to play chicken with a bus - unless you figure on contributing to its garish colour scheme - chickens get cooked and along with your goose, so will you be. After a while you learn what to expect. Indicators are optional and only waste electricity, the same for headlights.

As to the rules, road customs might be a better description. Beeping is de rigeur when overtaking a vehicle or wayward pedestrians. Approaching a blind bend, it makes sense too. You'd better learn to use it and instinctively. In the UK for sure we are often too polite to use the horn thinking it is rude and only resorting to it almost as an insult. In India, and most of the developing world probably, the horn is an essential driving aid, almost a courtesy to those you 'use it against'. I can imagine some people getting upset that you did not use it and pedestrians perhaps being offended as nobody gives a toot about them?

We must buddy up and ride together in case the group gets stretched out. Don't go mad and be careful. There are mechanics and medics interspersed throughout the group too, just in case. Today is about familiarisation with our trusty steeds who will be our companions for the next two weeks and 2000kms in the mountains. Mine is number 28 and I think I'll name it - Sebastian Vettel is inspiration and "Kate's dirty grandad" comes to mind; the bikes are old and they will certainly get dirty!

The mountain spirits are duly blessed in a ceremony performed by a local priest. It takes a while and everyone lines up for a personal blessing complete with red dot - me thinks it's too much like a sniper's laser sight, (maybe a bus drivers?) and I am one of the few to leave without the target mark.

Engines started, first gear engaged (upwards and on the wrong side to normal bikes) and then we're off playing follow my leader (incidentally who's a great character but more of him another time.). The first few 100 metres or so are where you're likely to stall or hit the brake only to find you're changing up a gear. It sinks in eventually but I find myself doing just that. And it's a pain to start when you stall - no fancy electric start, it's all manual and done with a potentially shin cracking kick. One soon learns to keep the revs up.

The traffic is chaotic as can be expected and after a few kms dodging cars and buses we stop for petrol and mayhem ensues as we block the garage with a throng of bikes. We're all sweating heavily by now - it's not particularly hot, just hot work riding. We are unique creatures on the road, fully armoured and over dressed and quite a sight and sound in convoy.

After filling up we head out of Simla on less busy roads and we soon find our rhythm with the gears and brakes. Then we turn off the wide tarmac and join a single track road that soon turns into a dirt track threading its way around the mountain side.