We can see the metre gauge train sitting two platforms over but there does not appear to be any oficial route to get there. We take chai while we consider the problem and then do what a few other people have done and jump down onto the track. Getting up onto the next platform is a struggle but there is a handy stone placed as a step to get down to the next track, from where we can walk up the ramp at the end of the MG platform. D does a recce and opts for the fourth coach out of the five that make up the train. The seating is wooden with substantial overhead racks, and in bays designed to seat eight people. A corridor runs down the side of the coach but there are no connections between coaches. Luggage up on the racks and it is time for a few photos. Our loco is 6740, a YDM4 class, the mainstay of the declining years of metre gauge in India. There is only one other person in our bay, a young man who has his phone plugged into his ears.
We leave promptly at 7 , as the sun is rising, and take a north westerly line out into the countryside. Rajasthan is looking greener than we remember and we have been told that there was a good monsoon. Much of the country is covered in scrub, but there are areas of cultivation. D locates the missing ticket wallet and we sit back and enjoy our packed breakfast of hard boiled eggs and toast. Four young men take up seats in our bay. One of them has decent English and we go through all of the usual questions. They are trainee teachers going home for the long weekend that arises because today is Maha Shivastri, an important religious occasion for Hindus. The line is single track with passing loops at stations. At one place we cross with a southbound train, hauled by a YDM4 in a bright blue livery. Some of the small stations are unstaffed and the guard issues tickets just like on the NG sections earlier this week.
The line starts to climb and the countryside gets much barer, with large rocky outcrops in places. The trainee teachers leave us, the last of them at Khamil Ghat, the highest station on the line. We are rather surprised to see a party of about a dozen pink people, with an Indian guide, join the train and get in our coach. We are about to enter the Ghat section, a steep descent of around 300 metres in just over 20 kilometres. As well as the tour group a lot of local boys get on, making a noise and hanging out of the doors. Presumably school is on holiday today. The journey down the ghats features tight curves, a couple of tunnels, some viaducts and three compulsory brake stops. Here the train must be brought to a stand before the points are set for the mainline. If the train fails to stop it is diverted onto a runaway siding with a steep uphill gradient. Not something one would wish to experience.
The hills here are wooded and are home to large numbers of langur monkeys with black faces and long tales. At one station the tour party guide starts throwing chapattis to bring them close, then lures one monkey into the coach. We are not impressed as a frightened monkey in a small space with a lot of raucous people could bite and scratch. When the train moves off the monkey jumps out through the window. The annoying small boys also get off here. The bottom of the Ghats section is at Phulad, where the train reverses and the loco has to run round the train. The tour group descend here and there are not many people left on board. D descends on the non platform side to photograph the engine running round. As the loco passes him the driver stops and waves him up into the cab. A quick shout to R and up he climbs and is invited to take the Assistant Pilot's seat. He is standing on the front of the loco ready to wave a red flag to stop the loco. After the manoeuvres are completed D asks whether the train will be on time at Marwar Junction, where we have a connection to make. Mubarak, the loco pilot, responds "Just small late". He explains that it will be a few minutes before we leave Phulad so there is time for chai, which is provided gratis for both of us by his friend the chai walla. What a lovely fella.
The rest of the trip is uneventful and we pull into Marwar only 15 minutes late. The MG platform is unshaded so we do not linger but head straight over to the main station, waving goodbye to Mubarak as we pass the loco. D has always wanted to change trains at Marwar, ever since he read Rudyard Kipling's short story 'The Man Who Would Be King'. To be honest there did not look to be much else to do at Marwar. Our connecting train to Jaipur is running only a few minutes late. We have been allocated one inside lower and the lower side berth in the first bay inside the door. Both lowers have people in made up beds but both side berths are empty so we fold back the seats and sit there. The journey to Jaipur is due to take just over five hours and passes without incident. We arrive 40 minutes late. Does that class as medium late?
The auto drivers are ferocious. We get them down to 80 rupees from 100 but that is the red line for them. At our hotel there is a slight problem. We booked through a UK agency and the hotel say they have not received the booking. They do have a room so we go for that and it turns out to be OK. For dinner we visit the rooftop restaurant at the Pearl Palace hotel where we have eaten twice before. It has gone all upmarket and stopped serving beer. The food is good and we are hungry so it will do.
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