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A Last Chance PowerDrive Part 3 A Ghost upon a Haunted Highway
A Last Chance PowerDrive Part 3 A Ghost upon a Haunted Highway
A Last Chance PowerDrive Part 3 A Ghost upon a Haunted Highway
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A Last Chance PowerDrive Part 3 A Ghost upon a Haunted Highway

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The biggest battles we fight
Are always with ourselves....

A Last Chance Powerdrive Part Three follows the journey of ex teacher Benedict Beaumont as he drives from Rishikesh to Kathmandu on his Royal Enfield Motorbike Ambliss.

As he leaves the dusty desert heart of India behind him, his journey begins to take him to stranger, deeper and more otherworldly places; haunted hotels, haunted lakes and haunted roads are only the start. Eventually he has to face his own ghosts and do battle with them.

A Ghost upon a Haunted Highway is the sequel to 'Gods on Tour and Dreaming in High places' and 'Of Death and the Desert'

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 20, 2013
ISBN9781301416851
A Last Chance PowerDrive Part 3 A Ghost upon a Haunted Highway
Author

Benedict Beaumont

Benedict Beaumont has led several lives; IT engineer, Secondary School Teacher and Chef to name but three. He grew up in the south of England, but has travelled extensively. He divides his time between Asia, the Alps and Brighton.

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    Book preview

    A Last Chance PowerDrive Part 3 A Ghost upon a Haunted Highway - Benedict Beaumont

    A Last Chance Powerdrive

    Part 3 A Ghost upon a Haunted Highway

    By Benedict Beaumont

    Copyright 2013 Benedict Beaumont

    Smashwords Edition

    Cover by http://peterwoolf.com

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    ~~~~

    Authors Note

    This book began life as a blog as I travelled around India on a motorbike. I was mostly by myself, and I wrote to give myself something to do whilst sitting alone in a restaurant of an evening, trying not to look like a Johnny-no-mates. A lot goes through your mind when you are travelling about in a different culture, and if you don’t find some way to get it out, either by sharing it with someone else or scribbling it down like a demented monkey, then the thoughts bouncing round your brain can drive you mad.

    I had no intention of turning the blog into a book, certainly none of publishing it, but something happened late on the trip that changed my mind, hence here we are. If you would like to find out what that was, well you are just going to have to keep reading!

    Whilst all of the events described happened and all the people I met are real, I have used artistic licence where necessary to help with the narrative flow of the book. In places I have also improved the English of some the people for whom it is not a first language, although the spirit of what they were saying is the same.

    There are some stories that didn’t make the cut or I didn’t think were appropriate here. A few of them I have posted on my website http://benedictbeaumont.co.uk/, including the stories of what happened in 29 Palms. The password Ambliss will open any restricted posts. Whilst you are there you can also download sample copies of other books including ‘Letter to India’ and the prequels to this book ‘Gods on Tour’ and ‘Of Death and the Desert’. There is also a Facebook page facebook.com/alastchancepowerdrive to like, which has some excellent promo videos and numerous photos of the trip there too.

    Finally, please could you review the book on Amazon. All feedback will help me make the next version better.

    Now enjoy the ride. Remember, tramps like us, baby we were born to run.

    ~~~~~

    Table of Contents

    Part 3 A Ghost upon a Haunted Highway

    Introduction

    Buddhism with the Breakfast Club

    Decisions by Text and the Other Side of the River

    Ollie

    As Good as Anywhere

    Silenced into Shock

    What I have learnt about Bikes

    Joyful Roads, Unexpected Moments and Santos

    A Ghost Upon a Haunted Highway

    Aiytour, Trekking Dilemmas and Recapturing Youth

    Deepak and the Funeral in Badhouri

    Lord Ram and the Lake

    Of Sunsets, Cookery Schools and Fireside Tales

    Tigers in the Night

    Bandipur and the Cave with Two Stories

    Gupta and the Sword that No One Sees

    The Polar Bear Who Loved Oranges Too Much

    A little slice of Staffroom in Bandipur

    Henry

    Acknowledgements

    About the Author

    ~~~~

    A Last Chance PowerDrive

    Part 3

    A Ghost upon a Haunted Highway

    ~~~~

    Introduction

    My room at the Bandari Swiss Cottages in Rishikesh was nothing special. It was a bare concrete cell that contained a double bed with a cheap mattress, a worn sheet, a thin blanket, a cheap plastic bin and a small mirror. The light bulb swinging overhead was naked. At the back of the room was an opening to a small tiled space not quite large enough to stand upright in that passed as a bathroom. A cracked sink, a toilet that didn’t flush and a spout coming out the wall for a shower was all that was to be found there. It was nothing particularly unusual and no worse than many places I had stayed in.

    When I had arrived late the night before the manager was apologetic as he showed me the room. It is all we have left at the moment. Our meditation and yoga classes are very busy and all the good rooms are taken. I assured him that it would be fine. I didn’t need a lot of luxury; the atmosphere of a hotel was far more important to me. Bandari Swiss Cottage had a good write up in my guidebook, and was described as a relaxed place, with lots of facilities and popular with travellers. After more than a month of riding, most of it alone, I needed a place where I could do nothing but read, eat and maybe chat to some fellow travellers.

    The Yogashala is next door to you, but you won’t be able to hear any of the chanting or movement if you want to sleep late, the manager continued. The best thing about these rooms is the view, he gestured out over the veranda and then laughed as it was pitch black. You will see in the morning sir.

    Maybe not in the morning, I smiled briefly. I have ridden for three whole days to get here. I’m exhausted and will probably sleep very late.

    The manager smiled back. Rishikesh is a very special place sir, a very holy place. You will find what you are looking for here.

    Ha! Well we will see, I said as he left, and within about thirty seconds I was fast asleep.

    He was right about the view. The sun was well above the trees when I made it out onto the veranda the next morning, blinking in the bright light. The simplicity of the room contrasted with the lush foliage in the garden and the mountains spreading out in front of me. I couldn’t see the river or the town directly, but that made the hotel feel hidden and mysterious. The constant traffic noise was gone too, and that made it even more appealing.

    A noisy motorbike appeared at the hotel entrance suddenly shattering the peace. I watched disapprovingly as it made it’s way across the garden and parked next to Amblis just below me. A young Indian man got off, removed his helmet and shook out his long hair. He was quite handsome and dressed in unusually hip western style clothes. He grinned up at me as he saw me watching and then bounded up the stairs and onto the veranda. Hi, I’m Roger. I am teaching the meditation classes here, he said as he extended his hand. You want to join us? We have one in about twenty minutes.

    No, I’m fine thanks. I shook my head.

    You sure? It could change your life. He cocked his head and arched his eyebrows as he looked at me. Training your mind can have lots of positive effects.

    I know, I nodded tiredly.

    So you gonna’ come then? he asked hopefully.

    No, not this time. I answered, silently adding, ‘not after the last time.’

    OK, well if you change your mind, the Shala is only just at the end of the veranda. We start in twenty minutes. He shook my hand again and then walked off to prepare for the class.

    Seven years before, my answer had been different.

    I leant back as far as my cheap plastic chair would allow and remembered.

    ****

    Have you ever meditated before? the shaven headed monk in traditional saffron and crimson dress asked as I scrutinised the flyer he had just handed me. His bare arms and face were pale compared to most of the people walking along Brighton seafront. The leaflet was advertising a drop in meditation class entitled ‘Training the mind: seven steps to Happiness’.

    No, but I have always been interested in it, I answered him. I like the idea of mental training and discipline.

    Having a strong mind is the first step to happiness, the monk answered with a smile. Try the drop in class. If you like it, there are study courses you can enrol on too. They really help with developing mental discipline.

    Thanks, I might. I said. He had an engaging smile and was not like the pushy salesmen of some religions that patrolled the streets looking for victims.

    The teaching this week will be on Death, his grin widened as I frowned. Trust me, it’s not what you think. It is a very powerful meditation.

    Maybe, I didn’t want to commit to anything immediately.

    Well if you are not too scared, I may see you there. He winked at me, and wandered off. He did not seem that bothered whether I came or not.

    It was only a few days since I had arrived back from the deserts of America, and only a month since I had left my job as an IT consultant and quit the band. I had neither job nor direction, I was completely unsure of what I was going to next. In some ways it was quite daunting, but it was also an exciting feeling too. After my time in 29 Palms, I realised that I could go anywhere and do anything with my life.

    But I had also realised out in the Californian desert that as well as deciding what I was going to do with the rest of my life, I was also going to have to decide the kind of person I was going to be. I was fed up with the vain, arrogant and selfish person I had become. I wanted to be better man.

    I

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