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.