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India – Germany on Enfield Taurus Diesel
India – Germany on Enfield Taurus Diesel
The long way home
Driving from India to Germany by axis is extreme. But to try it with three newly purchased 6.5 hp Enfield diesel motorcycles on your four-week annual vacation is quite brave.
Hermann Weil
05/13/2002
Monday, March 26th, landing in Delhi. An ancient, rusty taxi takes you to the bus station and from there to Chandigarh to the Enfield dealer. “Power brakes – keep distance” is what it says on the back of the car to inspire confidence. At the thought of having to ride a motorcycle here, my heart slips in my pants. It doesn’t matter – that doesn’t help anymore. They should be in Chandigarh, our three Enfield diesels with 325 cc and 6.5 hp. Just right for a 7000 kilometer way home. We arrive dead tired and sleep around the clock. Tuesday, March 27, 2001 – 2nd day, kilometer 0 Indeed – when we wake up, they are there. Three brand new Enfield Taurus are already registered on us. First, the mechanics tear the seals off the adjusting screws and turn the injection pumps on until they stop. “More Power!” Then click. With flip-flops they patiently show us their technique for starting the sluggish diesel. But even with heavy boots we can’t do it the way they do. We carefully dare to make our first attempts at driving. Not so bad at all. The heated grips I brought with me are the sensation. Every mechanic, customer or neighbor tries it out at least once – in the evening the battery broke down. Oil is already dripping from Martin’s machine. Everyone passing by kicks them, gives a couple of throttles and puts them down again. Good bikes! Mister Manmohan promises improvements. Wednesday, March 28, 2001 – 3rd day, kilometer 93 Today we actually wanted to go on a trip to the Himalayas and break in the motorbikes. But Mister Manmohan strongly advises against that the traffic is too dangerous for us. In the evening, the made-to-measure metal suitcases arrive in the Flaschnerviertel and the spare parts that have been ordered additionally. Manmohan has exaggerated a bit, each of us now has a sack full of essentials such as footrest rubbers or lamp chrome rings, while unimportant items such as replacement tubes are unfortunately not available. $ 150 extra per nose. Three times as high as planned, but otherwise Manmohan organized everything perfectly and painstakingly, so we don’t complain. After all, we have more spare parts in our suitcase than some dealers have in stock. Thursday, March 29, 2001 – Day 4, kilometer 347Today we should start. The boss has bought a wreath of temple flowers for every moped as a good luck charm. In view of our plan, it is certainly a sensible investment. Numerous onlookers and even a press reporter have come and say goodbye. We lurch away. The load wobbles terribly with luggage. At a higher speed, the straight-line stability stabilizes to some extent, but when I think about the route ahead of us, I get scared. Then the chaotic left-hand traffic, the typical Enfield swapped shift and brake levers and – to top it all off – a reversed shift pattern! During emergency braking, I instinctively stand on the gear lever. Thanks to the positive reactions from the other road users, I am still unscathed around all the pedestrians, ox carts, sacred cows and the buses and trucks that are radically sweeping out of the way. Amritsar appears. As always, Josef drives ahead, straight in the direction of the Golden Temple. But after a few meters the waves of the tuk-tuk and rickshaw sea close behind him. His black helmet can only be seen between the turbans because of his size. We immediately cause traffic chaos at the temple. Within a very short time, we are so surrounded by crowds that we cannot even communicate by shouting. A police officer finally waves us on to break up the chaos. After all, we saw it from afar, the temple. Friday, March 30, 2001 – 5th day, kilometer 546 The Pakistani border lies ahead of us. After a diesel test drive by the customs officials, we can enter the country without any major problems. Behind the border, Josef turns back the injection pump of his machine in order to curb the barbaric soot emissions and fuel consumption. From now on we move almost exclusively between ox carts, buses, bicycles and rickshaws. There are hardly any cars left. Every stop causes a crowd, passers-by spontaneously invite us to tea or pay for our drinks. The hospitality is overwhelming. We survived the traffic chaos of Lahore unscathed and even found a highway-like road to Multan. However, in very changeable condition. The potholes that appear look like rollover. Ox carts and tractors are always on the move in the opposite direction along the central reservation, trucks and buses always where the asphalt is best. If necessary, also on the other lane. Now that the running-in period is over, we can finally give full throttle – 80 km / h. At the same time, stronger and stronger vibrations are becoming noticeable on my motorcycle. We spend the night in Sahiwal. The bedding in the only hotel is so dirty that I go to bed on my sleeping mat for the first time. The motorbikes are protected with clean blankets and guarded by the hotel owner. Saturday, March 31, 2001 – 6th day, kilometer 899 Until Multan, we have gradually understood the Asian driving style: Basically only look ahead, forget the rearview mirror and indicators, and never at intersections take off the accelerator or even grab the brake lever. Even a minimal reduction in speed is considered to be a request for cross traffic. A cyclist slams me in the side with such a misunderstanding and is knocked over by the tin case. Thank God nothing happens to him. When we have the city behind us after 30 kilometers, our nerves are on edge. In the direction of Quetta, the population becomes thinner and mountain ranges rise. Soon, a first pass climbs spectacularly up steep rock faces towards the sky. We race head to head up there. I win! Once on the plateau, the sun is already low and bathes the rocks in the most glorious orange. Which is why the potholes can hardly be seen when driving on – the mopeds have to take heavy blows. In total darkness we reach a small place. On the street there were a few stalls lit only by kerosene lamps, the people in front of them in a ghostly light. The village policeman takes us to the only “hotel” at the local bus company. An educated young man with a British accent appears and invites us to dinner. The son of the tribal prince, as he introduces himself.Sunday, April 1, 2001 – 7th day, kilometer 1321The stony, monotonous plateau accompanies us all day. At a distance there were mountain ranges, occasionally tents. People keep popping up and inviting us. But unfortunately there is not enough time for a visit if we want to reach Quetta before nightfall. Tuesday, April 3, 2001 – 9th day, kilometer 1650 After a day of rest in Quetta, where we buy hoses and do the long overdue oil change, we go on a well-developed road along the railway line towards Dalbandin. Rocks and rubble transform into a sandy desert, the tongues of which extend to the road. My Endfield is vibrating so much that I have blisters on all my fingers in the evening. Wednesday, April 4, 2001 – 10th day, kilometer 2035 Instead of sand, there is stone again, otherwise there is little change in the landscape. Meanwhile, my moped not only vibrates, but also rattles terribly. In the brutal midday heat, we meet two Malaysians who are on their mountain bikes from Bangkok to London. For an entry in the Guinness Book. We reach the Iranian border in the early afternoon. The customs clearance is cumbersome, but smooth, we are greeted with a friendly “Welcome to Iran”. We are supposed to drive with soldiers to the first police station. Martin, who is the only one with enough space on the pillion, refuses to take a mercenary with him. Finally they let us drive on without protection. Finally right-hand traffic again! Immediately after the border, Martin loses the fastening screw of the connecting strut between the cylinder head and the frame backbone, which at the same time holds the tank. We immediately check the other two motorcycles. Everything is fine with Josef, I’ve already lost the nuts and one of the two tank lugs has vibrated. I completely remove the screw and stuff a rag under the tank to prevent the sheet metal from chafing through. The strut! The cause of the murderous vibrations has finally been located. In contrast to Pakistan, Iran has an almost western standard. The roads are in perfect condition but closely monitored. Three checks to Zahedan – over 60 kilometers. With the last one, we are politely asked to wait until an escort accompanies us into town. After half an hour we get nervous because it is already dawn. Then finally a pick-up with several heavily armed men appears on the loading area. We’re allowed to go. Without an escort. Thursday, April 5, 2001 – 11th day, kilometer 2367 Removing the tank mounting was not a good idea. Now the goat shakes so much that I can hardly hold the handlebars. We fill up again – 36 liters of diesel for the equivalent of 1.40 marks – and plunge into the potty-level, boiling stone desert »Lut«. Everything is glowing, even the sharp wind that takes my breath away and tears away the remains of the temple flowers on the handlebars. In addition to the slopes, sheep, goats, cows and even camels mummified. It even seems too hot for controls. As if in purgatory, we pant until the hills and the first green oases finally appear again in the evening shortly before Bam – we are through. When asked about a place to stay, a young Iranian spontaneously offers to escort us to »Akbar »s Tourist Guesthouse« in the back of the city. He then neither accepts an invitation nor the taxi money for the way back – it was his gift. The retired teacher Akbar has created a real idyll in the small, palm-lined courtyard. After dinner we chat with him for a long time about Europe, Iran and his regime. Friday, April 6, 2001 – Day 12 Today is a day of rest. We get screws for the loose struts and visit »Arg-e Bam«, the old fortress of the medieval city. Saturday, April 7, 2001 – 13th day, kilometer 2729One of the Japanese tourists from the guesthouse wants to go with Martin to Kerman. Because of a few photo stops, I move independently today. After 50 kilometers I notice that my jacket, which I had strapped on my luggage, has blown away. Damn. Turn around and seek. At the first police station I leave a message for the buddies, who probably only have the Japanese on their minds anyway. “Wait in the princess garden of Mahan.” Back to Bam. I find broken tires, lots of rubbish, but no Gore-Tex jacket. If only I had taken better care of the temple flowers! Frustrated, I drive to the »Princess Garden«. No buddies. So on to Kerman, in one of the hotels recommended by Akbar. There a helpful porter calls half the city for the Enfield drivers. Without a result. I begin a desperate search for a needle in a haystack in the city of 320,000. Until it gets dark, I torture my way back and forth through the heavy traffic. As I am about to give up, I see her waving on the other side of the street.Sunday, April 8, 2001 – 14th day, kilometer 3074On this cold morning, I wistfully remember my jacket, which is now probably being sold at some bazaar. Josef lends me his windbreaker. Today, of all days, a gusty wind is blowing that almost sweeps you off the road. In the early afternoon we arrive in Yazd, want to buy something to eat, but nobody exchanges our dollars. It is to cry for. A baker finally gives us some flatbread. Monday, April 9th, 2001 – 15th day kilometer 3380The headwind does not stop. We gasp up some inclines with just 40 km / h. I’m freezing horribly without my jacket, and the sand that is blown up almost blinds me. The goggles have also gone on in the meantime. In Esfahan we have the engine oil changed in a moped workshop under the expert gaze of a larger group of spectators. Again, the mechanics don’t want any money, and we have to persuade them to at least tip them. In the evening, the motorbikes are allowed to spend the night in the turkey barn of a hotel neighbor. I buy a two-brand jacket at a bazaar – Adidas on the front, Nike on the back. At dinner we meet Markus from Lindau, who is on his way home with a Yamaha 125. We’ve known since Pakistan that he’s in front of us, so now we’ve caught up with him. Wednesday, April 11, 2001 – 17th day, kilometer 3800 All roads from Esfahan seem to lead to Tehran. But we don’t want to go there. With difficulty we find the way to Arak. Soft green on the slopes of the snow-capped mountains replaces the barren desert, spring flowers and fruit trees are reminiscent of home. Josef’s moped suddenly loses power and clearly falls behind on the many inclines. Thursday, April 12, 2001 – 18th day, kilometer 4236 Before we set off, we first have to retighten all the screws, the strong vibrations take their toll – chain guard, license plate, tool box are already loose. We are still struggling with the wind. In addition, we are gradually dealing with real passports. With a headwind we sometimes crawl up the mountains at walking pace, while the tail wind carries us up in its own soot cloud. Martin almost races into an unlit oncoming truck in a tunnel. He brushes the truck with his left shoulder, skids along the tunnel wall and barely avoids a fall. In the afternoon it will be cloudy and bitterly cold. The colleagues unpack their thermal suits while I continue singing in my bazaar jacket, shivering. Friday, April 13th 2001 – 19th day, kilometer 4714In the morning the zipper of my super jacket breaks too. I pull two sweaters underneath, loop a belt over it so that it is reasonably tight. Nevertheless, I am very cold. There is classic April weather, alternating rain, storm and sunshine. When we take a break in a tea room, we get tea for free, as is so often the case, and at least twenty guests try to encourage us. From Tabriz the mountains rise higher and higher, the termometer falls lower and lower. I have now everything that was in the suitcase. Saturday, April 14th 2001 – 20th day, kilometer 5087 The Turkish border crossing at Maku is not far anymore. We leave extra early because there are horror stories about the clearance. It is actually chaotic, we are sent back and forth forever. The customs officers are very nice and everything goes smoothly except for one illegal invoice. Passing the snow-covered Ararat, we continue towards Erzurum. Pass now follows pass, some over 2000 meters high. Sometimes there is still snow. The people on the roadside wave to us in a friendly manner. Although it is getting colder and colder, we drive another 50 kilometers to Askale. Searching for a hotel in Turkey is easy because there is always a helpful person who speaks German. Our landlord doesn’t understand anything, but looks after us in an almost shameful way and watches our room door at night.Sunday, April 15, 2001 – 21st day, kilometer 5578We get up at six o’clock to leave early. Again mountains and probably snow and rain lie ahead of us. Feral dogs chase after us several times, besieging the road in packs. Monday, April 16, 2001 – 22nd day, kilometer 6020 The temperatures are still moderate, but the passes are not so high with a maximum of 1500 meters. Martin’s engine wobbles like a cow’s tail when the load changes. He discovers loose engine mounts. My machine is already missing a continuous engine retaining bolt and an exhaust screw. We pull up what is left and drive on. From Ankara the home straight begins – the motorway to Izmir. Western standards again for the first time in a motel. Tuesday, April 17, 2001 – 23rd day, kilometer 6455 From now on it only seems to be going downhill. The thermometer rises, the area is reminiscent of Tuscany. Then the Mediterranean Sea spreads deep blue and the port of Izmir right in front of us. We are almost there. With our last dollars we buy the ferry tickets to Venice and finally a motorcycle jacket for me. Saturday, April 21, 2001 – Day 27, kilometer 6910 Now only over the Alps. From Venice the temperature drops steadily again. It starts to snow on Lake Garda, a snow storm is raging on the Brenner. 350 kilometers to go. In rest stops we warm ourselves with hot tea. Shortly before the German border we spend the last night. Sunday, April 22, 2001 – 28th day, km 7100The diesels are thickly covered with snow and of course don’t start in the cold. Pushing is difficult on the snow. In the end we make it, struggle with difficulty, from rest stop to rest stop. At some point, after 28 days and 7100 kilometers, we nail past the Esslingen town sign. We are at home.
Info
With a little adventurous spirit, the transfer of an Enfield from India is no rocket science.
The motorcycles The original plan to purchase the three Taurus diesel motorcycles directly from Enfield India Ltd. Pick up in Madras, South India, could not be realized as Enfield does not sell to foreigners. For example, a dealer was found on the Enfield homepage www.xxxxxxx.xx who would like to handle the deal with the Germans. Manmohan Auto Stores, Sector 27-C in Chandigarh (phone xxx / xxxxx / xxxxx, fax xxxx / xxxxxxx / xxxxx) took over delivery and registration against down payment of half the purchase price (of 1500 US dollars final price in India) and 150 US dollars fee of the motorcycles. He also had tin suitcases made for the luggage. Since no vehicles are officially registered for foreigners in India, the dealer quickly “invented” a place of residence for the Germans, to which the vehicles were then registered. The later TuV acceptance in Germany was more difficult because the exhaust gases from the small diesel engines exceeded all standards. Here the Heppenheim-based dealerxxxxx, xxxxx, xxx, xxxxx helped. In the meantime, however, Enfield has stopped diesel production, which is why imitators would have to buy classic gasoline engines and this point will therefore be superfluous in the future. All three motorcycles made it through the 7,000-kilometer route without any real breakdowns. Lost screws and minor vibration damage were manageable defects. It is therefore of crucial importance to regularly check the screw connections so as not to lose essential parts on the way. A complete tool set should be on board for this, combined metric / inch, as mixed thread types – sometimes even on the same screw connection – occur. Consumption averaged 2.4 liters of diesel, but varied greatly with the setting of the injection pumps. At the time of the trip (spring 2001), the tour was feasible without any particular safety concerns. At the moment, however, the political situation in the Middle and Far East should be closely monitored and the instructions from the Foreign Office in Berlin should be observed, telephone 01888170 or www.auswaertiges-amt.de. Visas are required for India, Pakistan and Iran, which were issued at the respective consulates in Germany (at least in early 2001) within six weeks without any problems. Even Iran immediately granted 14 days. A Carnet de Passage is required for the transfer of the motorcycles, which members can obtain from ADAC for a fee of 275 euros and a deposit of 3,000 euros Euros plus customs duties in Germany of 375 euros. Time required: 4 weeks. Distance covered: approx. 7000 kilometers
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