Overtake Like an Indian

The first 100km are the worst

Pity me. You can only imagine what it must be like for a dyed-in-the-wool European driver,raised within a structure of courtesy systems and stringent traffic laws,to take her first baby steps out of rush-hour Mumbai. The sun was beginning to set after I crossed the Vashi Bridge into Navi Mumbai and joined the NH66,thus heralding my first terrifying night-time drive. The opening leg of my 10,000 km journey ran the spectrum from gridlock to arcade-style racing,swerving and dodging,and even a couple of hours having my eyeballs barbequed by the beams of fellow motorists. By the time I reached Nandgaon in the Raigad district of Maharashtra,six long and painful hours after leaving Mumbai,I was ready to turn back and go home.

Handle the GPS with suspicion

I named my GPS Delilah,for she was not to be trusted. Despite her intelligence,she fell short of being able to tell the difference between the fastest routes and the most practical. Her mistakes often led me off the beaten track and deep into remote rural areas where the residents and I had no common tongue and the road signs were illegible. On the bright side,without Delilahs deviance,I would never have ended up lost in Maharashtras gorgeous Sindhudurg province. Nor would I have marvelled at the eye-popping mountain views on the glorified mountain path she advised from Shimla to Dharamsala.

Take a chance off road

The old adage is true: cars do buy you freedom. And spontaneity. The best bit about driving a car for long,boring distances is that you can pull up wherever you like and check out places that you would never have dreamed of going before. I had never heard of Nagarjuna Sagar when I stopped there on the way from Hyderabad to Vijayawada,and it was worth the detour. An excursion to the island of Buddhist relics that were saved from drowning when a dam was built in the region,involves a boat ride across the third largest man-made lake in the world,which is surrounded by a stark and arid rocky landscape.

Taking the time for a little self-romance

Another perk of the solo road trip is the ability to embrace moments of romance on your own: stopping one afternoon at Orissas Chilika Lake,I was curious to know what Asias largest brackish lagoon might look like. I pulled up at the village of Barkul near the lakeshore and walked out to the eerily deserted dock to see if there was anyone willing to take me out for an early evening punt. Fifteen minutes later I was out on a narrow wooden canoe,watching the silhouettes of migrating birds fly in manifold flocks against the setting sun.

Taming the fear

I was often asked whether I had felt threatened driving alone as a woman. Although there were moments of mild paranoia,like passing through sections of the Red Corridor or more rural parts of the country where Id read about gangs of bandits that roamed the highways,I tried to keep a level head. I never had anything more to protect me than the can of hair spray I kept in my handbag and a mordant attitude. Ive wondered if my approach would be different now,after all the attention that has been beamed on womens safety in India,and Ive concluded that it shouldnt be. I might perhaps upgrade my hair spray to a more caustic can of,say,tear gas,but I could never let the threat of depraved men curb me.

Old habits die hard

I quite quickly got used to the chaos of Indian roads,and began to pride myself on my demon overtakes and warrior-like use of the horn. When I finally went back to my home island of Jersey,domain of the Worlds Most Polite and Deferential Drivers,I found myself skipping queues,brazenly overtaking and generally taking full advantage of peoples courteous nature there. The last straw came when I reduced to tears a pregnant woman in a supermarket car park after honking impatiently at her prolonged parking manoeuvre.

Vanessa Ables book The Nanologues 10,000 km around India in the Worlds Car, is published by Hachette India and will be released in May.