Karl spent ten days in Kolkata and then “oiled up his bike” and headed west for Bombay. In his letter to the Truro newspaper on November 15, 1900, Karl wrote:

“I have, so far, kept on the Grand Trunk road as much as possible but occasionally go astray, landing up in the jungle, sometimes a long distance away, before finding out the mistake. Not many days ago I took the wrong turn and cycled on for 18 miles, coming to a village of about 1500 people. Here the road ended; men, women, and children were sitting around smoking their pipes, while others were crushing sugar cane with a couple of water buffaloes. Of course all operations ceased when I came on the scene, and as usual, the locals all crowded around my wheel. The “Jemadeh” (Mayor) came out and wanted me to smoke his pipe. Instead I made a cigar out of some dried leaves and lit it from his pipe. Then mounting my wheel, I road around the village for 5 minutes, the cigar in my mouth and my “topee” (Indian hat) in one hand. The people went mad, and when I had finished and laid down under a date palm, the Jemadeh ordered them to bring me dates, sugar cane and coconut while he took my wheel and tried to ride it, putting a puncture in the front tire as he did so.”

After getting back on course, when Karl arrived in the Town of Ghazipur, his postmark book was stamped, and the following appeared in the local paper from the Ghazipur correspondent:

“Karl Creelman, a young man of 23, started on his bicycle “the Red Bird” from Nova Scotia on the 11th of May, 1899. Creelman is now on his way to Bombay on his splendid machine built by Goold and Co., of Ontario. He arrived at Ghazipur looking quite fit, and seems to have a better time of it in India up to the present. Creelman knows but five words of Hindustani with the aid of these, assisted by signs, he says he has got along very well. He left Ghazipur this morning for Benares, intending to cycle down to Bombay”.

Karl had difficulty navigating the route to Benares and writes:

“In some places the roads are quite narrow. So narrow that a local driving his bullock wagon along, takes all the road and leaves no room for a cyclist. Shout as much as you like, he will never move to one side to let one pass him. Two or three times, I tried to teach these bullock drivers a lesson by cycling up alongside their wagons and frightening their bullocks who immediately turned square around and bolted down the bank. While spinning along this day, I saw directly ahead of me a bullock wagon. Shouting to the driver to get to one side, I found as usual, that he paid no attention, but came on as though he owned the roadway. Then I made up my mind to go straight along and scare his bullocks. On my getting opposite them, the animals as usual, turned around at right angles to the road, and bolted down the bank, but this time instead of finding the body of a wagon projecting no more than two or three inches to the rear of the wheels. I discovered the load consisted of 20ft bamboo poles, which stuck out from the rear of the wagon, quite far enough to reach across the road. Consequently I crashed into them and was thrown down the bank into a “Ghat”, or dirty pond. As I slowly climbed up the bank again, all dripping wet, I was met by two or three hundred locals who had collected from a village nearby. They were the most pleased looking lot of people I had ever seen. Some helped me get my bike up the bank and others helped the bullock driver to get his team straightened out again. They all seemed to have enjoyed the incident immensely.”

For my long-time readers of the Karl Chronicle, this particular incident might ring a bell, although clearly forgotten by Karl himself. In Post #47 — “Cows and Bicycles” — Karl shared with the Truro newspaper that in Wisconsin, there were some good roads for biking. Still, there was one thing he did not like. “Wherever there happens to be a bicycle path alongside the road, some person will tie their cow onto the fence and let them stroll across the path leaving the rope for the wheelmen to run over”. Karl experienced this first hand and reported that while travelling along one of the cycle paths, he saw a cow lying near the path, thought he would scare it, and yelled out a wild “hurroo”. He told the newspaper that the cow jumped up, but then he realized that the cow was tethered to the fence and that the rope was stretched across the path. The rope became taut right between his two bicycle wheels, and Karl admits that he landed 10 feet ahead of his bicycle!

Bullocks indeed!

Dear Reader, similar to Karl, who stirred up local interest as he arrived on the "scene" with his bicycle, I too had encounters that made me feel like I was a celebrity. During my travels to remote villages in India, where I ventured alone as a white woman, I became accustomed to being asked for selfies and photos by the locals. Husbands would request photos of me with their wives or children, and wives would ask for pictures with their sisters. There was even a moment when a baby was unexpectedly thrust into my arms for a photograph. With each photo request, I made a point of reciprocating and asking that a picture be taken with my camera as well to preserve those memories. In these particular images, you will find a departure from my usual position “behind the lens”. Instead, I am now the subject, fully immersed in my experiences. It is my hope that you will find joy and appreciation in these captured moments, just as I did.