An endangered species: the Bangladeshi mountain

Here's another picture from the bike trip I forgot to post earlier.  Other hills along the northern border may soon suffer the fate of this one, at least those that had the ill fate of falling on the Bangladesh side of the line.

The pile of raw red earth is what is left of the hill (or 'mountain'; anything higher than a person is a pahar in Bangladesh).  It is slowly being mined for aggregate: any gravel is sifted out and hauled off, and the dirt is left to wash away.  Another village further along had a lovely grass-covered hill that I stopped to nap on.  Before I left one of the villagers told me with pride about how all the residents had registered their names with the local government for their mountain.  So when it is 'cut down' they will all get their share of the profit, and presumably the remaining flat land.

Cherrapunji

What a beautiful place!  Riding down the ridge to Sohra and on to the guest house was one of the nicest rides I've ever done.  And the first evening it was clear enough to look down on the Bangladesh plains and see the hills, haors and towns I'd just biked through.  But Meghalaya is such a contrast to Bangladesh, with its mountains, jungle, cool air, and few people.

Mymensingh is probably the most rainy place I've ever lived, with an annual rainfall of about 2.5 m, almost twice that of Bogra, less than 100 km away.  Moving another 100 km East into Sylhet, where I crossed the border, this annual rainfall doubles again to over 5.5 m.  In Cherrapunji, the average annual rainfall is an incredible 12 m ...with a record setting 24 m back 40 years ago.  And most of this rain falls during the three months of monsoon.

Apart from seeing the monsoon in the wettest place on earth, the other attraction at Cherrapunji is the root bridges, formed by the local Khasi people by guiding ficus tree roots across the river from trees on either side.   An amazingly durable solution for a place where nothing seems to last long with the torrential rains.

I've never seen as spectacular a display of butterflies as in the jungle slopes there.  This was one that stayed still for long enough for me to take his picture.

Getting to this waterfall lookout spot was quite a hike: 3 km horizontally and 1 km vertically (from 300 m to 1300 m).  Coming at the end of a day of hiking around the root bridges, I was pretty worn out by the time I reached the top.  And my legs are still aching from the climb.

I had one day with only morning rain, perfect for looking around.  Then the rains started -- and it kept raining continuously for the rest of my time in Meghalaya.  So that was the end of my pictures.  I also took a shortcut on the way back, catching an overnight bus to Tura in the West, and riding down from there -- making it back to Mymensingh in one day.

I wish I had pictures of some of the Khasi people I met.  I don't know if I've ever known a people for whom generosity comes so easily.  The fellow I sat next to on the roof of the jeep going up the hills spent hours helping me look for a ride on to Shillong, for a place to keep my bike, for a place to stay -- and wouldn't leave till I was finally settled in a hotel.  The next day, on the ride down to Cherrapunji, an older man and his son were doing the same road on their motorbike.  We passed each other a couple times, and then stopped at the same tea shop and talked some as I ate rice and they had their tea.  When I was leaving, I couldn't figure out why the shopkeeper wouldn't take my money; when I eventually understood the man had paid for my meal and tea, they were already leaving, and I just managed to catch them in time to say thanks.  The next day, I stopped at the same shop, but it was closed for Sunday and the shopkeeper was obviously just on her way out to church.  But she realized what I had come for and insisted on opening the shop and making me tea -- and again wouldn't take any money.

bike trip

With several days of holiday around Eid, I decided to take the chance to head up north into India, to Cherrapunji, the wettest place on earth, and a place I've long wanted to visit.  I've also been eager for a chance to explore the northern border by bicycle, so as I got to planning the trip it quickly turned into a bicycle trip with a short break in Cherrapunji: 6 days on the road and 2 at the Rayen family's Cherra Holiday Resort.

The dark green on the map above closely follows Meghalaya's borders, with Bangladesh on the South and Assam on the North.  I started off going East along the small roads paralleling the border.  It is remarkably beautiful country, with some unique terrain.

After a night in Birisiri, I rode into Shunamganj, but soon had to load the bike into a boat to get across the Tanguar Haor.  Although it is right next to the mountains on the northern border, much of Sunamganj is less than 10 m above sea level, and has several haors, enormous areas that stay flooded even during the dry season.

The rivers that come rushing down the Meghalaya hills spread out and deposit their stones and sand in vast riverbeds...  The rivers were all hubs of activity, full of people sifting out various grades of gravel to truck down South as construction aggregate.  They were also a challenge for the bike: both finding where the boatman happened to be, and then pushing the bike through the endless loose sand flats.

Despite this being towards the end of the monsoon, most of the roads were rideable and many in good shape.  And aside from the stone extraction sites, there is hardly any motorized vehicle traffic on the small back roads.  Lots of scenery like below.  I think Bangladesh's green rice fields are even more beautiful with mountains in the background

I met many friendly and generous people along the way: a small-time coal businessman in Tekkerhat, a retired 7th Day Adventist pastor, Garo students, and the fellow below, whose uncle Jalal took me in when I failed to make it to Jafflong by evening.

forest fruits

A week ago, I visited the homes of a couple of MCC staff in Pirgacha, in the middle of the Modhupur forest.  It is a beautiful, peaceful place -- and my visit was well timed for the pineapple season.  I don't think I've ever eaten so much or such good pineapple.  It is the main crop of the area, and the naturally ripened fruit they pick for themselves is so much better than what you get in the bazaar.

But pineapple wasn't the only fruit around.  During a short walk in the jungle, I got to taste four fruits that I had never even seen before.  I'm regularly amazed by the variety of fruit around here.  After living in this part of the world for most of my life -- and making a point of trying every fruit I come across -- I am still discovering new ones.  Below is Shuvro with meur guta (Bengali) or ti-kring (Mandi).  It is something like lotkon ...nothing like any Western fruit I can think of.

Modhupur is also one of the few places in Bangladesh where you can get a view like the one below.  It used to all be native Sal forest, but now not much of that remains.  Before local people cleared the forest for farming, and after the not-yet-cleared forest became government land, the government forest department continued the clear cutting.  Huge swaths have been cleared and replanted with timber trees plantations.