MEGHALAYA - DAY EIGHT : DAWKI – BY THE RIVER’S EDGE

Farewell Cherrapunji

           With a rain warning being issued for the states of Assam and Meghalaya, the drizzle of the day before had become a downpour by the time we woke up in the wettest place on Earth, Cherrapunjee. Breakfast consisted of a couple of mouth watering Alu Parathas that warmed up our bellies, and along with it our hearts. Once ready to leave, we loaded our bags onto the back of the bike and waited half an hour for the deluge to become a drizzle before deciding to step out. The very first kilometre had us both drenched down to our inners, and we realised there was no point worrying about it now - it couldn't get much worse. 

Misty Mountains all Around

         Thick fog, and for the most part of the ride, heavy drizzle, accompanied us all the way to Dawki. The few breaks in the curtain of mist revealed beautiful rolling hills of green glades, reminding one of what the story books describe meadows of the Irish countryside to be like. Apart from a monstrous structure in Sohra that looked like it was a victim of the holocaust which turned out to be an abandoned cement factory, the rest of the countryside seemed to have been the setting for a childrens’ fairytale storybook. 

          Despite the biting cold, the continuous drizzle had me take off my cloth gloves, resulting in my knuckles nearly freezing on to the handlebars of the bike. Desperate for some heat, we stopped at a little teashop by the cliff and ordered a plate of Maggi, some delicious black tea and biscuits. Even before drinking it, I dipped my fingers one by one into the tea to get the blood flowing again (to Anu's stern disapproval of course). Even more interesting was the fact that the two young girls who were making us tea and Maggi in that little stall in the middle of nowhere, who probably barely knew English, were singing ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran to themselves.

Thawing Frozen Knuckles

              At one point on our route, we had a bull charging at us in the opposite direction. Carefully maneuvering so as to keep clear of the young bovine gentleman, we continued our cautious journey in the nearly non- existent visibility, the yellow lines of the road our only guiding reference. At the next tea shop, Anu was the centre of attraction of a trio of six year old boys, one even expressing his greetings with a loud “Hey Baby”. 

              The final descent down to Dawki was when the fog finally cleared up, allowing us to see the lovely winding roads amidst grassy knolls. As we descended, the flora changed from open meadows to plantations of arecanut, until we finally crossed the Dawki bridge over the River Umngot. Right on the border with Bangladesh, the little town of Dawki was alive with fish stalls teeming with fresh catch and youngsters convincing tourists to embark on boat rides on the still water.

First Glimpse of Dawki River

            Another half hour's ride saw us climb the nearby hill and arrive at Shnonpdeng, a wonderfully clean location upriver of the commercial stretch of Umngot River that we had just passed. Some tents had been pitched on either side of the river, and our host, a youngster named Kenny guided us to a nice looking three person Quechua tent on the river bank. 

Tent by the River's Edge

             Excited like two little children on a camping trip, we dropped our bags off, ate a quick lunch and then jumped into the crystal clear chilly water that the river was famous for. Half an hour later, we dried off, changed our clothes and went for a walk on to the hanging suspension bridge over the river. 

              Getting back just as it was getting dark, Kenny agreed to get us a small bottle of rum, so we picked up some chips to munch on and water to drink before returning to the tent to watch the twilight take over from the evening sun. Very slowly, twilight faded away, only to be replaced by a million stars over the crystal water. Kenny finally arrived by around 8 PM with a solar lamp for the tent and our bottle of warmth for the evening. As there was no source of electricity nearby, Anu handed over her phone to him for charging at home. We then collected up the evening's contraband and walked across the rocks to the river front and sat ourselves on an armchair shaped rock we had identified earlier in the evening. With great effort, I managed to convince Anu to taste her first glass of rum. What better setting for such a special occasion than on the banks of a crystal river under a sky full of stars. 

               An hour later, we walked up to the parking lot and took the Himalayan to dinner to the Betelnut Restaurant half a mile away. Kennys's friend, a talkative and friendly young fellow, worked at the restaurant and was there to serve us. Settling a tasty Chinese dinner into our tummies, we returned to the parking lot and then carefully made our way down the steep flight of stairs to our riverside abode. Zipping ourselves in, we left the rain flaps open to allow some ventilation into the tent, as the night was turning out to be fairly hot and humid. One AM. saw a sudden change in the mood of the weather god, as he sent us a sudden downpour, having us scrambling to close up the rain flaps on both doors of the tent. The rain only lasted half an hour and I opened up the flaps the moment it stopped. Despite all the excitement of the night, both Anu and I had one of the best sleeps of the journey in a tiny little tent here at Shnonpdeng on the banks of the Umngot River.