And Now For Something Completely Different
Stuart Scott Tackles The Karma Enduro

When a chance call came from Richard’s widow, Philippa, to say that her co-driver on the Karma Enduro charity drive in India was hesitating and would Stuart be willing to take his place, the instant answer was ‘Yes’.

What had Stuart just signed up to? The Karma Enduro is publicised as a charity event where teams do all sorts of fund raising prior to taking part. It is an unbeatable way to challenge the individual, to meet people of like mind and most importantly to do something amazing for people in desperate need here in the UK and in India.

Here, in his own words, is the story of this journey-of-a-lifetime experience:

At first glance, it may seem like ‘just a motoring adventure’. Wrong! The road was neither straight nor easy. The challenge was to meet people of south India who, for whatever reason, do not enjoy our ‘taken for granted’ comforts. We were amazed and enthralled to travel among these people and gain an invaluable insight to the lives of what is an extremely happy, positive, dignified and honest race. We were warned that travelling in India is always a powerful experience – but these were difficult words to gauge. ‘The roads are tough on people and machines and things will not always go right. It is a test for body, mind, patience and personal relationships’. The prediction was correct on all accounts. There were words of caution. ‘Don’t try to kick against India; it is ancient and vast, with well over a billion people living there. Float down-stream and it becomes a place of awe and wonder with surprises round every corner’. A truer word was never said - the surprise was always a fully-laden truck or bus.

Now to the route. The scenery and terrain of Goa, Karnataka, Kerala and Tamil Nadu are as stunning as they are diverse. The journey was planned to begin at the beautiful beaches of Goa, traverse the tiger reserves, tackle the steep and demanding jungle ascents in the western Ghat mountain range and pass along the many rice-padis and intervening plains.

What could be so difficult? Twenty-five Ambassador (Ambi) cars, (think Morris Oxford with fifty-two horsepower and air con), in convoy - twenty-five drivers with twenty-five navigators – should be a dawdle.

The warm-up was a 50 km car-familiarisation around the chaotic roads of Goa with a lead, brightly-covered Landrover, three motorcycle outriders on sturdy Royal Enfield machines and an ambulance to act as long-stop.

The route was given in the form of pace notes and the mileages were based on GPS coordinates. The Ambi odometer was strangely reminiscent of the Sixties, i.e. inaccurate. For the next twelve days the interpretation of the fractions was the difference between making the night stop, or leading fellow drivers into the unknown and uncharted. The retention of a sense of humour as five Ambis try to back out of a farmyard was tested time and time again.

A leisurely Day One of the actual adventure covered 195 km, leaving the white beaches of Goa and climbing into the cool Western Ghat mountain range. A sign said ‘39 Hairpin Bends’ then a subsequent sign at each bend counted them up on the ascent and down on the descent. Mix in a plethora of overtaking buses and undertaking tuk tuks and the day was anything but leisurely. Several near disasters were discussed at the night stop of the Hotel Lotus in Karwar, a property that had seen better days. A very political children’s play about terrorism and external threats to India was a welcome rest from the recounting of the many death-defying encounters of the day.

An early start for the 290 km Day Two introduced the drivers to the beauty of the mists in the mountains and the hectic village life as the population revved up on their scooters. Every village needed full concentration as pedestrians vied with motorcyclists, as they vied with buses and lorries to possess the right of way. The truth is that might has the right of way and he who hoots loudest wins. The horn is purely a means to indicate an intention, without making that intention clear. The use of indicators is to create the doubt needed should there be a coming together. With five of a family up on a motorcycle, with the wife side-saddle, there was a constant pressure to back off, a point not well taken by the following traffic. The evening stop at the RNS Residency at Murudeshwar, Karnatka was, frankly, a missable event, despite the presence of a two-hundred foot Buddha. It rained a great deal.

The day did not get off to a good start. At times the road lost its cohesion, parts had been washed away and on one prolonged stretch the average speed was 12 km per hour; the Ambi spent more time in traverse motion than forward motion. Morale took a tumble. Two hours later, and on slightly better roads, a further 250 kilometres were in prospect with a hard drive deeper into India’s rural heart offering some tremendous sights including the breath-taking 16th century fort at Nagara. This was only a short respite before driving to a jungle retreat high up in the mountain forest on the border of the Kudremukh National Park. The accommodation at Silent Valley was very basic and damp, but a social evening of songs and jokes kept spirits high.

Another full day of 230 km saw us heading south to the teak wood forests and coffee plantations of Coorg, known as the Scotland of India.

The roads were just as pot-holed, save for the stretches around the vast estates that clung to the hillsides along the banks of the Cauvery River. Wealth made itself known in many odd ways. The Ambis were corralled each night and the mechanics were now spending further time bending items back into shape. We arrived at sunset so the mechanics had to use torches to assess any damage. One car had to have the chassis re-aligned as it took corners sideways after an encounter with a giant pot-hole. Another was two hours late - lost up a cart track. The girls kept cool heads and were rescued by two of the escorts on a Royal Enfield. An offer to drive them back was gratefully received. The evening buffets were beginning to test the perseverance of those who had decided to forego local cuisine in the interests of their own karma; the Kadkani River Resort was no exception - but at least it wasn’t damp inside!

A 175 km route from Kadkani to Mysore highlighted the diverse nature of India’s roads. We made an early visit to the stunning Buddhist Golden Temple at the Tibetan refugee town of Bylakuppe and watched the trainee monks playing football and cricket in their saffron and red robes with little decorum.

Our route took us through remote rural villages whose animals were devoid of any road sense but availed themselves of their special protected status; the cows made decision-making a minute by minute hazard. Cows have seen it all before and acted as moving chicanes.

Our patience was sorely tried as the cows played chicken with the buses. The Ambis were no match for either. Even on the ‘high-speed’ road into Mysore, the dual carriageway proved that the hazard factor of reversing or head-on traffic was just as bottom-clenching as the tight hairpins of the Ghat. Mysore, despite its cacophony of traffic, people and millions of tuk tuks, still proved a haven of rest for the battle-weary group.

The Hotel Regaalis had international cuisine and a same-day laundry service, so it won the rosette on all accounts.

The start of the day, the exit from Mysore, was fraught in the morning rush-hour and it was with relief that we entered the tiger reserves of Bandipur and Mudumallai. The roads were just as bad but the traffic nightmare of Mysore was a distant memory. The scenery was as lush as it was demanding as all had been briefed to look out for wild elephants and tigers - we saw none but had sore necks trying. A photo session with a working elephant clearing logs at the roadside was our best effort.

The goal was to arrive in one piece at the wildlife sanctuary area of Masinagudi. This was to be a welcome two-day stopover at the Jungle Retreat with rudimentary accommodation, good food and a swimming pool fed by some very cool mountain water. But the highlight of the whole adventure was a visit to the Retreat by the sponsored children of the charity. They arrived by the newly acquired bus.

These were children from broken homes and out-of-work parents who lived in the jungle and would normally have had no hope of escaping the vicious circle of poverty. The Ashram Charity aimed to break the cycle through education and the living proof sat in ordered rows in front of us for the introductions.

They were immaculately dressed in their school uniforms, a smiling bunch of happy children; their smiles said it all, and when the formal activities were over, they were as raucous as you would expect from children that had never played with a balloon or blown bubbles. There was hardly a dry eye in the clearing.

It turns out that the bus is literally a life-saver. In recent years, 11 children from the area have been killed by elephants and tigers – driven more and more into populated areas by deforestation and human encroachment – as they walked to school.

After the day at rest and a visit to the local elephant sanctuary, we picked up the pace again for a 295 km push up towards Kodaikanal - a fascinating hill station; actually, the only hill station to be run by the Americans during the British occupation of India.

The drive to the top, with huge drops as the road clung to the hillside, made for extremely demanding driving and the inevitable buses when they were least expected proved adept at just not hitting us. The views at the top over immaculately manicured tea plantations made the anxiety worthwhile. The Carlton Hotel was also a well-earned tonic with tea and cucumber sandwiches on the lawns overlooking the lake.

The penultimate day was without doubt one of the most beautiful day’s driving. ‘Today is almost too good, with so much beauty that your eyes can see, the brain can store but the heart takes months to feel and interpret’. The tea plantations of Munnar were immaculate and lush. The picking season was underway and the colourful saris of the pickers made a splendid contrast on the dark green bushes. The villagers smiled and waved as we processed in our stark white Ambis round the narrow roads of the plantations and through the bustling villages.

The pot-holes were ever-present and lack of concentration led to some very narrow squeaks. Part of this day was spent travelling through many villages displaying the ‘hammer and sickle’ - seemingly the biggest concentration of pure old Communist Party followers on their continent.

We retired for a night’s rest at the Mountain Club in Munnar. Our first snag, a puncture, needed a new tyre (remoulds only last so long), and the chassis realignment engineer was fully occupied.

We started very early for the final run of 240 km to the Lakesong Resort at Kumarakom, Kerala with all the Ambis back on the road; all with near-straight chassis. The rush down to the plains was just as big a challenge. Seemingly, most accidents happen on the last day - over-confidence, relief and Ambi fatigue can make standards slip.

The cows, buses and lorries presented the same threat as day one, with several near misses and a lost group - we were to be no exception. One wrong turning had led five Ambis down the wrong winding road and they missed the horn-blaring, triumphal drive into the resort complex, only to be met by cold towels, a decorated elephant and a drum band. The car and occupants were in one piece and the funds were going to a couple of terrific charities, The Rainbow Foundation of the UK and the Ashram Charity of India. To date, as a group, we had raised £140,000 prior to departure and committed to purchasing a further two buses at a cost of £40,000 (which included the driver’s salary for a year), and a new escort motorbike – and 85 more children will be able to get to school; quite an achievement.

Looking back, what seemed like a pleasant car rally turned out to be a test of driving skills, navigation, endurance, concentration, patience and good humour. The meeting with the children, the recipients of the fund-raising, was life-changing and put everything into perspective. We would do it all again - but we would all avoid the salads. A decent map would also have been a help but using a GPS device would not have been in the Karma Enduro spirit.